Each year my list of Christmas card recipients grows or changes. The past two years I have moved to address labels much to my mother’s chagrin, primarily because handwriting 150 addresses on top of the other holiday events which are on top of all other motherly duties is just too much. Also, it gives me an opportunity to write a personal note inside of the cards rather than signing them and sending them out. I spend a lot of time each year designing the card, typically with a choice photo. One year, while in college, I even turned out a large stack of handmade cards which I ran through the printing press. But those days are long gone.
Yesterday I ordered only 100 cards for this year. In the meantime I have spent some time trying to whittle down my list. I now have it to about 124 and feel good knowing I can take a few addresses (the next door neighbors) off the list and still feel good. Of course nature does some of the work for me. My first step was to go and take out those that passed away this year. We lost quite a few relatives this year and it really feels like longer than a year since losing my Great Aunt Bessie in January. But typically for every address that is removed there is another to take its place. This year I spent a lot of time concentrating on the friendships that I already have. I feel blessed to have such a good group of friends, both in my community and spread out all over the country. With that in mind I am getting ready to order an extra 20 cards, simply because I can’t bear to take anyone else off of my list. And luckily for those who I just got in touch with this past year, there is always Facebook.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
$1.00
As I was pulling into the parking lot at Joann Fabrics for an hour of “kid free” time to look at fabric and patterns I saw a man waving his arms and looking really perturbed. I thought of parking in a different section, but I like parking on this particular side of the store. I don’t like for others actions to change my own. I was just getting ready to turn of the ignition when he spoke to me through the minivan glass. I rolled down my window and leaned over the passenger seat to listen while explained that:
1) He would not approach my car.
2) He needed Greyhound fair totaling something around $15.00 and so far he had $8.50.
3) He was not on “dope” or going to use the money he collected for any other purpose but to get a ticket out of Frederick (maybe I should have joined him).
He was agitated because he had apparently approached some Hispanics at the nearby Salvadoran restaurant who got upset with him. I told him I had a dollar, which really was all that I had on me, except for some change. He told me to toss it out of the car, he wouldn’t approach me or my vehicle. Really. I told him to just come get it as I leaned over the passenger seat handing it out the window. He already felt dirty enough, why make him felt worse by tossing it on the street and quickly rolling up my window?
Of course I will never know if what he said was true, and figure it’s just a dollar which won’t make or break me. I went shopping with the knowledge that I had a Joann Fabrics coupon in my purse so it would all work out fine.
After a long hour of shopping and comparing prices I approached the cash register with a cheap pattern and a few zippers. I pulled out my coupon and on further examination realized the coupon is good for next week. Ugh! The cashier, an older lady, said, “Well I have one here.” and pulled a coupon out of her apron asking if I wanted to use it on the pattern, the most expensive item. I said yes. When she looked at the total she said, “That’s weird. I thought it would have taken off more. It just took off a dollar.” I thought, “No, it took off the correct amount.”
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Rond de jambe
Recently, I have had two major epiphanies. One of these sudden insights happened while I was in my second night of ballet class. I had not taken ballet for nearly twenty years, when I was a teen, although I have made up for it by practicing yoga, modern and jazz dance in the years since. We were at the barre working on our tendu battement followed by the rond de jambe. I was going through the motions of this exercise as if I were a child again, easily remembering many of the positions, even if my body was not as graceful as it had once been. My foot traced the uppercase letter D on the floor which was always the way I remembered this particular movement. But when it came time to do the rond de jambe counterclockwise my foot stuck. I realized I needed to train my foot to do the exercise backwards.
As a young dancer I struggled with reversing routines and movements. I could do them fine on the right side, but if asked to do the mirror image on the left side I had to work extra hard. But it was good exercise for the brain and even though in retrospect I’m sure my dance exercises were hampered by dyslexia. Of course symptoms of dyslexia include perceiving letters and number backwards or reversed or inversed. While dancing I would need to work extra hard to remember which direction my limbs were supposed to go in order to complete the exercise or combination correctly. I’m sure the extra work on my part was good for my brain function even though it was exhausting.
As my foot was tracing the rond de jambe I remembered a letter I had received from a friend last year. We had both struggled in school as children, and he went on to tell me about his sudden growth and development in his learning process during the time he was learning to play guitar. Up until that point academics were troublesome for him. He suspects that somehow learning to play the guitar forced him to think differently and soon after he became interested in literature, writing and other areas where he had once struggled.
The correlation between my experience while growing up dancing my friend’s learning to master the guitar are similar. Each skill worked on a section of the brain that academic learning did not touch, yet in the end I’m sure both of us benefited from learning dance or a musical instrument. These two art forms force you to think differently and possibly recalibrate the brain. I’m not an expert, but I know that everyone learns differently. After studying Dr. Howard Gardner’s Multiple Intelligences I know that when it comes to working with my own students and now sons teaching them only through linguistic and logical-mathematical means may not reach everyone. Play to their strengths and you never know what may come out of it. And remember, you are never too old to start dancing again!
Sunday, September 27, 2009
I ♥ LV YOU Intensely
I ♥ LV YOU Intensely
That is what was written in the dirt on the car of the bumper in front of me. It was a dark green Honda Civic, the updated version of what I used to drive. I don't think intensely was even spelled correctly. I sat at the light behind this car wondering about the writer, and then the receiver of this message. Did the receiver even know the message was there. I had never seen anything other than “Wash Me!” or foul words scrawled in the dust of a dirty car. I began making up stories about this pair. It certainly looked like a women had written it, especially with the placement of the heart. But, this also looked very much like a female driven vehicle. Intensely was written almost as an afterthought. It was smaller and I’m sure the writer got to a certain point when he/she wondered how to spell it but continued writing anyway. Maybe it was a woman’s car, and another woman had written this message on it, in adoration and in haste. Of course it could have been written by a young man too. If so would he have done this after a fight?Finally the light turned green and we made our left turn into traffic. I continued to follow this loved person, still not knowing if it was a man or a woman. At last I had the opportunity to pass the car and did with some reservation. The moment I see this person, part of the mystery would be solved. Pulling up beside the car I see a pretty young woman with long straight blonde hair. Then it made sense. Of course she would be pretty, not just pretty, but gorgeous. Does she know how much she is loved?
A Moment in Time
This summer I found a roll (really a disc) of film in a camera from my teen years. To have it developed would mean sending it away to a photo lab in Pennsylvania and paying way too much money for it. But after speculating as to what was on this camera (circa 1987) and pressure and support from various people I decided to pay the money and find out. In the process I began looking through my collection of old cameras, which now totals nine, and found two rolls of film from my grandparents Platt 1963 Kodak Instamatic, one still inside. Then to my surprise I discovered a roll of film that was still in their 1933 Kodak Brownie. I carefully rewound the film in the Brownie and taped it closed. I found a pretty and strudy box to mail these mysteries in and soon they were off to Pennsylvania.
The package arrived this week and just like opening a time capsule, I quickly yet carefully opened it not knowing what I would find. I was disappointed to see my own camera disc was blank, as well as a few of the other rolls, but I then pulled out the prints. They were able to retrieve photographs from two rolls of film from two different cameras. When I pulled the first picture out I exclaimed to my five-year old son, who was in the room with me, “That’s me!” Indeed it was a photograph of me on my Granddaddy’s lap doing one of my favorite things, riding the tractor. The rest of the 19 images were of that day at his little farm with my brother and Granddaddy’s dog Panda or of my brother’s trip with the grandparents to the Midwest to see Herbert Hoover’s Presidential Library. They were all grainy black and white images printed in the square format popular in the 1960s. And one photo in particular, of Hoover’s birthplace was especially pictorial, with the quaint picket fence surround the small white clapboard house. 
The roll of film retrieved from the 1933 Brownie contained only two photos most likely taken in the 1960s. They were taken almost as a test or a simple documentation of a mundane task. Maybe my grandparents were debating whether to continue to use the camera. They never threw things away. The photos show my grandfather washing his car, with the neighbor’s house in the background. My grandfather is dressed in a button down short sleeve shirt and long pants; casual wear for that time period.
I can only assume my grandmother was the photographer of all these photos, since she does not appear in any of the pictures, yet was most certainly by my grandfather’s side. This is unusual, as I remember my grandfather being the photographer, not her. My grandparents are gone now, so I can’t ask them about the photos or the cameras. I only wish I had developed these pictures several years ago before Grandmama passed away. She would have enjoyed them.
So no, I didn’t find anything outrageous or dramatic on these rolls. But sometimes the most important times in a person’s life are not the fancy parties or expensive vacations, but the simple days of sitting on a grandparents lap and learning to drive a tractor, petting the family dog, or simply washing the car.
The package arrived this week and just like opening a time capsule, I quickly yet carefully opened it not knowing what I would find. I was disappointed to see my own camera disc was blank, as well as a few of the other rolls, but I then pulled out the prints. They were able to retrieve photographs from two rolls of film from two different cameras. When I pulled the first picture out I exclaimed to my five-year old son, who was in the room with me, “That’s me!” Indeed it was a photograph of me on my Granddaddy’s lap doing one of my favorite things, riding the tractor. The rest of the 19 images were of that day at his little farm with my brother and Granddaddy’s dog Panda or of my brother’s trip with the grandparents to the Midwest to see Herbert Hoover’s Presidential Library. They were all grainy black and white images printed in the square format popular in the 1960s. And one photo in particular, of Hoover’s birthplace was especially pictorial, with the quaint picket fence surround the small white clapboard house. The roll of film retrieved from the 1933 Brownie contained only two photos most likely taken in the 1960s. They were taken almost as a test or a simple documentation of a mundane task. Maybe my grandparents were debating whether to continue to use the camera. They never threw things away. The photos show my grandfather washing his car, with the neighbor’s house in the background. My grandfather is dressed in a button down short sleeve shirt and long pants; casual wear for that time period.
I can only assume my grandmother was the photographer of all these photos, since she does not appear in any of the pictures, yet was most certainly by my grandfather’s side. This is unusual, as I remember my grandfather being the photographer, not her. My grandparents are gone now, so I can’t ask them about the photos or the cameras. I only wish I had developed these pictures several years ago before Grandmama passed away. She would have enjoyed them.So no, I didn’t find anything outrageous or dramatic on these rolls. But sometimes the most important times in a person’s life are not the fancy parties or expensive vacations, but the simple days of sitting on a grandparents lap and learning to drive a tractor, petting the family dog, or simply washing the car.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Monday, August 24, 2009
Bus Stop
As a child I grew up with parents who worked for the Federal government. Bureaucrats. This at a time when some mothers worked outside of the home and others stayed home to raise their brood. I always expected to have a job outside the home as well when I became a parent, and I did for the first year of my son’s life. But here I am today, escorting my son to the bus stop and getting ready do it for the next 179 days of school. I thought it would be a once a year experience, taking him to the bus stop, with a daycare provider taking over the rest of the year. Instead I’m the daycare provider, and stay-at home mother, as well as a business owner. Something I should undoubtedly be proud of yet, I still find myself wondering how it ended up like this. I can look at myself as the lucky one who gets to do this twice daily walk with my boys. And I am lucky. We don’t have to worry about before and after school care, who will stay home with him on a sick day and who will be in charge of his lunch packing, homework helping and afternoon snack feeding. It will be my role to do all of these things, unlike my mother, some thirty years ago (to be fair, both of my parents helped with homework ).
I feel like June Cleaver without the pretty dress. 
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Quotes, continued....
7/23/09
At an Italian restaurant in downtown Frederick after consuming nearly the entire contents of the breadbasket Luke said, “When we leave here, I want to come back here!’ and he hadn’t even had the tiramisu yet!
7/23/09
After a long drive home in the driving rain listening to Luke's (3) questions about animals and nature I said, "Luke you think big thoughts and little thoughts, don't you?" Liam (5) responded and said, "I think medium size thoughts."
8/8/09
While I was cutting an onion Liam said “Onions make you cry”. I answered, “Yes, among other things.”
8/8/09
Andrea went to the grocery and picked what she thought was Folgers French or Columbian Roast off the shelf (anything strong). Later at home while making the coffee she looked at the label and was in dismay upon reading that is was ½ Caffeine. She muttered something unprintable and Liam said, ‘You should have read the label before you buy.”
8/9/09
After the boys were tucked in Ryan went into the bedroom thinking they were sound asleep and it was time to turn their light off. Luke looked up at his father and said, ”Why you come’d in here?”
8/11/09
The boys and daycare kids attended Library Story Time in which the theme was opposites. Later that day we discussed and named things that were opposites. When I asked, “What is the opposite of smart?” Ethan responded, “Not smart!”
8/11/09
We were in the grocery picking out things for Liam’s Kindergarten lunches. While picking out the juice boxes Liam said, “These will be good for preschool.” I said “You aren’t going to preschool.” He responded, “Oh, that’s right, college!”
At an Italian restaurant in downtown Frederick after consuming nearly the entire contents of the breadbasket Luke said, “When we leave here, I want to come back here!’ and he hadn’t even had the tiramisu yet!
7/23/09
After a long drive home in the driving rain listening to Luke's (3) questions about animals and nature I said, "Luke you think big thoughts and little thoughts, don't you?" Liam (5) responded and said, "I think medium size thoughts."
8/8/09
While I was cutting an onion Liam said “Onions make you cry”. I answered, “Yes, among other things.”
8/8/09
Andrea went to the grocery and picked what she thought was Folgers French or Columbian Roast off the shelf (anything strong). Later at home while making the coffee she looked at the label and was in dismay upon reading that is was ½ Caffeine. She muttered something unprintable and Liam said, ‘You should have read the label before you buy.”
8/9/09
After the boys were tucked in Ryan went into the bedroom thinking they were sound asleep and it was time to turn their light off. Luke looked up at his father and said, ”Why you come’d in here?”
8/11/09
The boys and daycare kids attended Library Story Time in which the theme was opposites. Later that day we discussed and named things that were opposites. When I asked, “What is the opposite of smart?” Ethan responded, “Not smart!”
8/11/09
We were in the grocery picking out things for Liam’s Kindergarten lunches. While picking out the juice boxes Liam said, “These will be good for preschool.” I said “You aren’t going to preschool.” He responded, “Oh, that’s right, college!”
Friday, July 31, 2009
My Music
Here is a list of what I have been listening to (and why in some cases).
Your Vegas opened for Duran Duran last year and after the show my girlfriend and I talked their ear off. Anyway, their music is what I would call Brit Pop, but my kids and husband like it so you may too. It’s lively and fun to rock out to. Plus, if you like skinny British guys in tight black pants this is the band for you!
The next set of artists is what I would consider indie music.
Last year I reconnected with one of my friend’s from middle school (really I found a lot of people from that time of my life - thank you Facebook!). He is known as Josh Joplin and I love his music and lyrics. I may be biased but again my husband likes it as well as my mom. A reviewer called him a “longtime indie-rock favorite”. Check out his stuff.
Josh lead me to his friend Garrison Starr. I don’t know how to classify her music as she has a country voice, yet lots of Rock & Roll thrown in too. A review called her a “premier alt-folk rocker”. I completely connect with her and she is a great performer as well. Her voice is like honey and you feel all that emotion and pain come through. She’s my first true girl crush.
Josh and Garrison embarked on a musical collaboration that they have been working on for the past year. Their band and debut album is called Among the Oak and Ash. They have reworked some traditional folk songs with their own bent on them. I should get a cut from all the promoting I have done for them. They are playing shows here and there so they may be in your town soon.
Garrison’s friend, Jay Nash has a voice a little like Bruce Springsteen and is a cutie. He’s the type that all kinds of women fall for. Nice love songs, but can rock out too and he is very sweet and gracious. I really like his album, A Stream Up North. He is a Labor Day baby just like me (different b-day as it is a movable holiday)!
While seeing Jay perform this past March I was introduced to Greg Laswell‘s music. Greg and Jay played an awesome show together (she my blog on it in March 2009) and I was hooked. Yeah, his music can be a bit of a downer at times, although my husband thinks it is uplifting. But Ryan is the optimist in our pairing. Anyway, just saw Greg perform again and you can tell that he and his band love making and playing music.
Pete & J headlined a show with Garrison. These two skinny guys and their band mates come on stage and boy was I surprised with their show. Who knew they had so much energy and could be so much fun?
Another group to keep your eye on is Elizabeth and the Catapults. They opened with Greg and one of her songs was featured on the latest Paste CD.
Interestingly, many of these musician’s share the same friends, bassists, and so on. The bass player from the night with Pete & J has since performed with Jay Nash. Greg Laswell promotes Pete & J and often times many of these musicians get together for benefit shows or group shows. I know there are more out there but this will get you started.
My favorite picks for what I consider more popular music and who don’t need help getting promoted from me are: Ryan Adams, Lucinda Williams, and Allison Krauss & Union Station
Your Vegas opened for Duran Duran last year and after the show my girlfriend and I talked their ear off. Anyway, their music is what I would call Brit Pop, but my kids and husband like it so you may too. It’s lively and fun to rock out to. Plus, if you like skinny British guys in tight black pants this is the band for you!
The next set of artists is what I would consider indie music.
Last year I reconnected with one of my friend’s from middle school (really I found a lot of people from that time of my life - thank you Facebook!). He is known as Josh Joplin and I love his music and lyrics. I may be biased but again my husband likes it as well as my mom. A reviewer called him a “longtime indie-rock favorite”. Check out his stuff.
Josh lead me to his friend Garrison Starr. I don’t know how to classify her music as she has a country voice, yet lots of Rock & Roll thrown in too. A review called her a “premier alt-folk rocker”. I completely connect with her and she is a great performer as well. Her voice is like honey and you feel all that emotion and pain come through. She’s my first true girl crush.
Josh and Garrison embarked on a musical collaboration that they have been working on for the past year. Their band and debut album is called Among the Oak and Ash. They have reworked some traditional folk songs with their own bent on them. I should get a cut from all the promoting I have done for them. They are playing shows here and there so they may be in your town soon.
Garrison’s friend, Jay Nash has a voice a little like Bruce Springsteen and is a cutie. He’s the type that all kinds of women fall for. Nice love songs, but can rock out too and he is very sweet and gracious. I really like his album, A Stream Up North. He is a Labor Day baby just like me (different b-day as it is a movable holiday)!
While seeing Jay perform this past March I was introduced to Greg Laswell‘s music. Greg and Jay played an awesome show together (she my blog on it in March 2009) and I was hooked. Yeah, his music can be a bit of a downer at times, although my husband thinks it is uplifting. But Ryan is the optimist in our pairing. Anyway, just saw Greg perform again and you can tell that he and his band love making and playing music.
Pete & J headlined a show with Garrison. These two skinny guys and their band mates come on stage and boy was I surprised with their show. Who knew they had so much energy and could be so much fun?
Another group to keep your eye on is Elizabeth and the Catapults. They opened with Greg and one of her songs was featured on the latest Paste CD.
Interestingly, many of these musician’s share the same friends, bassists, and so on. The bass player from the night with Pete & J has since performed with Jay Nash. Greg Laswell promotes Pete & J and often times many of these musicians get together for benefit shows or group shows. I know there are more out there but this will get you started.
My favorite picks for what I consider more popular music and who don’t need help getting promoted from me are: Ryan Adams, Lucinda Williams, and Allison Krauss & Union Station
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Photo Friday, In Shadow
Greg Laswell at the Rock & Roll Hotel, Washington DCJuly 16, 2009
This is one of those photos that may only be appreciated by the person who took it, but I love the grainy quality for this rockin' night time portrait.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Dog Days in Point of Rocks
I had a good day today, for a lot of reasons, but one reason was that I realized I was not the only stay-at-home mother who felt this way. I took the kids to Story Time at the local library, our regular Tuesday morning routine. While holding my new daycare infant I chatted with two of the moms as the kids listened intently to the stories (such a relief as I used to have to sit in there with them). As we talked, one mom of three said this summer she is spending nearly each day out of the house, since they are more mobile now. She used to stay home, plan play dates, organize crafts and stories, just like what I used to do in my daycare. Now she is tired of it and instead they spend their days at the pool, nature center, playground and other activities. I kept saying that’s how I feel and I have spent the past year beating myself up over not running my daycare like the little preschool I used to envision. But looking at the dynamics of my current group, (my boys: 5 and 3 ½, a toddler some days and an infant) what’s the point? So I left with a huge weight lifted. All this time I thought there was something wrong with me, but instead it happens to other mothers. Sometimes we just need to shake things up without any pre-planned lesson and just let the children direct their own learning.
Then of course, as these things tend to happen, I typed in a few choice words in Google and up popped a job opening perfectly suited for me. So I’ll research and find out about it. Meanwhile, I need to continue stimulating my kids with daily outings when we can and otherwise they seem content to dig in the dirt, play in the sprinkler and draw their own pictures without following any preconceived set of rules. After all it is the dog days of summer.
Then of course, as these things tend to happen, I typed in a few choice words in Google and up popped a job opening perfectly suited for me. So I’ll research and find out about it. Meanwhile, I need to continue stimulating my kids with daily outings when we can and otherwise they seem content to dig in the dirt, play in the sprinkler and draw their own pictures without following any preconceived set of rules. After all it is the dog days of summer.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Monday, June 29, 2009
Illuminated
Years ago after my husband and I obtained our masters degrees my parents took us on a trip to see my father’s homeland. So many things stand out from that two week trip to Hungary including the food, the perfect Mediterranean-like weather, the warmth of my relatives and the unique lodgings we stayed in. Our final hotel was back in the capital of Budapest where we had begun our trip, expect this time we stayed in the famous Hotel Gellért, which had views of Gellért Hill, the Danube River with a large bridge over it near the entrance of the hotel connecting Buda to Pest. By this point in the trip we were tired and overstuffed with heavy Hungarian cuisine and looking forward to the famous Gellért Spa to relax before heading home. We arrived at the opulent hotel and proceeded to our small rooms. Ours had a small balcony with a view of Gellért Hill and the busy street below. But what was most noticeable about our room was not the view so much as one small piece of opulence which was slowly being stripped of its finery. We had a small chandelier hanging from the center of the ceiling amongst what would be considered a fairly modest and outdated hotel room. My husband and I lay on the bed wondering about the missing prisms, which encompassed nearly the entire bottom rung. I debated whether to take one myself for a souvenir, but Ryan talked me out of it. When I checked in with my folks their room had the same small chandelier with its missing crystals.
Since that trip I have wondered about the chandeliers, the crystals and what they look like today, eight years later. When guests of the hotel took the crystals did they end up on a necklace, in a shadow box or stuffed in the bottom of someone’s jewelry box? Did they smile and think, “This time I got something better than a bathrobe or a stupid hotel pen.” Was the defacing of many small chandeliers worth it to bring a piece of Hungary back home? Have the chandeliers finally been replaced with energy efficient lighting? In the larger scheme of my life these are such minor questions yet, I have always wondered about the small crystals that were so easily slipped into one’s luggage without the hotel staff having the faintest notion at the time of check-out. Maybe one day I’ll make it back to the Gellért to relive my very unusual spa experience (that’s a fun story for another time) and to check on the hotel lighting.
Since that trip I have wondered about the chandeliers, the crystals and what they look like today, eight years later. When guests of the hotel took the crystals did they end up on a necklace, in a shadow box or stuffed in the bottom of someone’s jewelry box? Did they smile and think, “This time I got something better than a bathrobe or a stupid hotel pen.” Was the defacing of many small chandeliers worth it to bring a piece of Hungary back home? Have the chandeliers finally been replaced with energy efficient lighting? In the larger scheme of my life these are such minor questions yet, I have always wondered about the small crystals that were so easily slipped into one’s luggage without the hotel staff having the faintest notion at the time of check-out. Maybe one day I’ll make it back to the Gellért to relive my very unusual spa experience (that’s a fun story for another time) and to check on the hotel lighting.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Photo Friday, Monochrome
- mono·chrome \ˈmä-nə-ˌkrōm\
- Etymology: Medieval Latin monochroma, from Latin, feminine of monochromos of one color, from Greek monochrōmos, from mon- + -chrōmos -chrome
- a painting, drawing, or photograph in a single hue
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Contours
We have been living in our house for nearly eight years, which means seven summers of lawn mowing. We spent a good portion of these summers pushing trusty hand-me-down mower on our 1/3 acre property until I ran over something and broke it. So we bought another push mower, until we realized mowing the lawn took up too much time in addition to raising two little boys, so in entered the riding mower. Now I do all the mowing. I have recently noticed how over the years the contours of our yard have changed, partly due to an excavation project a number of years ago, but also due to the gradual change in the land. Dirt moves and settles, followed by rains, digging dogs and moles and the process repeats. There are areas that I can no longer take the riding mower for fear of toppling over, and that change has only occurred in a two year stretch of time.
So I shouldn’t have been surprised when I pulled out my prom dresses the other day. It’s been over 20 years (GULP!) since these were worn. I threw a bridesmaid dress into the mix for fun and I am glad I did. It is only about 12 years old and is the only item ever made custom made for me and it fit me perfectly back then. Guess what? Two babies since it still fit like it was made for my figure (thanks in part to the A-line cut). I was feeling pretty haughty when I went to try on the dress I wore as a ju
nior in high school. It fit, but it was a little big on me, back then. And my how styles have changed since the late 1980s. So with great confidence I stepped into my royal blue prom dress with the asymmetrical cut that I wore as a high school sophomore, as my sons looked on. The shock must have shown on my face when I could not get the dress zipped up all the way. It came to my rib cage and just stopped. I sucked in and as I thought of asking my oldest son to pull the zipper up, I took one good yank and it was zipped. Of course I couldn’t breathe, but I was in it. The dress still made my legs look awesome, but it had lost a bit of the magic it once had. Maybe it was simply due to the lack of oxygen traveling to my brain. Who knew that ones rib cage could expand so much after childbirth? I paraded around in it for my sons, realizing that I would never try it on again. At least I got the fantasy of slipping into my prom dress out of my system and even feel ready to give it away to some very lucky high school drama department.During the very same week my sons, 5 and 3 ½ were asking about how small they were as babies. I pulled out a preemie outfit, they had both worn as newborns, but that did not seem to make an impression, so my husband and I pulled out their baby photo albums. As we flipped through, it wasn’t how much the boys had changed so much as how much the parents had. When my oldest was born we looked so young. My husband’s grey hair was just starting, yet not recognized on film. We looked fairly relaxed , if not sleep deprived. Now, I notice the little lines on our faces, and the grey hairs are there. It’s all part of growing up and becoming a parent.
It all goes back to contours of the land. Nothing stays the same or looks the same forever. So I use my Oil of Olay (now just Olay) as I have since I was about twelve. That may be the only thing that has remained the same.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
It's almost been a year
June 9, 2009
This afternoon a violent afternoon thunderstorm ripped through the area almost a year to the day (just one day off to be exact) that a microburst torn though my town, felling trees, damaging cars and homes and creating what looked like tornado swath. I am the type of person to remember significant dates. That week last year was a fanatical one, not just due to the storm, but also due to other events in my life. A year later I look back and think of all the good that has come from all those events, as well as some of the difficulties.
That Monday my husband came home to report that he had given notice at his job. Now a year later he is very happy not only with his current work, but also his office, co-workers, bosses, commute on the train into DC as well as just the general lifestyle of working in the city and coming home to his family in the country. That was a good day.
On Tuesday the storm came through, knocking down about five of our trees in our backyard and causing substantial damage to the backyard and fence. It just so happens that our computer blew out as well that morning (shortly before the storm, but the insurance company thinks it happened during the storm). We were lucky. One next door neighbor lost their car. Another had a huge tree land in their master bedroom. A year later we are still digging into the pile of mulch left behind from some of the trees knocked down on another neighbor’s property. That was a weird day.
On Wednesday, as I was setting up the removal of the trees in our yard, we received the news that my mother-in-law had Stage 3 ovarian cancer. I called the daycare parents to pick up the children, had my own sons go with my parents and I rushed to the hospital to be with Gail, Ron and Ryan. Now a year later, Gail is still fighting this disease. She has had her ups and downs and is on her third round of chemo. My in-laws decided to sell their beautiful mountain property and move to Louisiana to be closer to a well-renowned cancer treatment center and other family members. That was a bad day.
I know there were other things that happened that week as well (yes, I finally found my keys!) and then of course there were so many other events, both wonderful and exciting and aggravating that happened throughout the year. I use anniversaries to mark where I was and look at how far I have come, what has changed and what I need to continue to work on. I have seen my oldest son through his preschool experience, worked with my younger son on giving up the pacifier and diapers and continued working with children in my daycare. After many years, I have picked up my camera once again for artistic pursuits, not just as a method of recording family events. I have traveled to several exciting American cities, and jumped on the indie-rock music following scene as well as continued with my yoga practice and even branched out to my old love, modern dance. Life threw a few curve balls and I spent a good deal of time sitting in the auto repair shop, getting to know the staff after three accidents in six months (none of which were my fault). Weddings, sadness in friend’s lives, surgeries and health scares. They all happened this past year.
I know my blogs aren't really funny. As much as I would like them to be, I really need them as a form of therapy, much like I used to have when I was an avid journal keeper. So recently I have been thinking about the past 365 days and singing this song by Greg Laswell.
It’s almost been a year.
http://www.imeem.com/people/TRDYyxe/music/eAewzYa8/greg-laswell-its-been-a-year/
This afternoon a violent afternoon thunderstorm ripped through the area almost a year to the day (just one day off to be exact) that a microburst torn though my town, felling trees, damaging cars and homes and creating what looked like tornado swath. I am the type of person to remember significant dates. That week last year was a fanatical one, not just due to the storm, but also due to other events in my life. A year later I look back and think of all the good that has come from all those events, as well as some of the difficulties.
That Monday my husband came home to report that he had given notice at his job. Now a year later he is very happy not only with his current work, but also his office, co-workers, bosses, commute on the train into DC as well as just the general lifestyle of working in the city and coming home to his family in the country. That was a good day.
On Tuesday the storm came through, knocking down about five of our trees in our backyard and causing substantial damage to the backyard and fence. It just so happens that our computer blew out as well that morning (shortly before the storm, but the insurance company thinks it happened during the storm). We were lucky. One next door neighbor lost their car. Another had a huge tree land in their master bedroom. A year later we are still digging into the pile of mulch left behind from some of the trees knocked down on another neighbor’s property. That was a weird day.
On Wednesday, as I was setting up the removal of the trees in our yard, we received the news that my mother-in-law had Stage 3 ovarian cancer. I called the daycare parents to pick up the children, had my own sons go with my parents and I rushed to the hospital to be with Gail, Ron and Ryan. Now a year later, Gail is still fighting this disease. She has had her ups and downs and is on her third round of chemo. My in-laws decided to sell their beautiful mountain property and move to Louisiana to be closer to a well-renowned cancer treatment center and other family members. That was a bad day.
I know there were other things that happened that week as well (yes, I finally found my keys!) and then of course there were so many other events, both wonderful and exciting and aggravating that happened throughout the year. I use anniversaries to mark where I was and look at how far I have come, what has changed and what I need to continue to work on. I have seen my oldest son through his preschool experience, worked with my younger son on giving up the pacifier and diapers and continued working with children in my daycare. After many years, I have picked up my camera once again for artistic pursuits, not just as a method of recording family events. I have traveled to several exciting American cities, and jumped on the indie-rock music following scene as well as continued with my yoga practice and even branched out to my old love, modern dance. Life threw a few curve balls and I spent a good deal of time sitting in the auto repair shop, getting to know the staff after three accidents in six months (none of which were my fault). Weddings, sadness in friend’s lives, surgeries and health scares. They all happened this past year.
I know my blogs aren't really funny. As much as I would like them to be, I really need them as a form of therapy, much like I used to have when I was an avid journal keeper. So recently I have been thinking about the past 365 days and singing this song by Greg Laswell.
It’s almost been a year.
http://www.imeem.com/people/TRDYyxe/music/eAewzYa8/greg-laswell-its-been-a-year/
Monday, May 11, 2009
Below is a project which I have embarked on.... you will see the project description followed by my proposal. I have been selected as an artist, met with the group, but have yet to be paired with a scientist. I do have one in mind, and it happens to be in a direction that I nearly tailored my proposal to. More to come I am sure....
The Mary Condon Hodgson Art Gallery at Frederick Community College invites art professionals and emerging artists to submit work of all media for a juried exhibition, The Art of Science/The Science of Art. Following the preliminary selection, artists will be interviewed by scientists from the National Institutes of Health, and then paired with a scientist to begin work on a collaborative art project. This collaborative project may take up to one year to complete.
Goal: To foster an understanding at Frederick Community College (FCC) and in the community of the relatedness of the process of creating scientific discoveries and artwork. The project will focus on how art can inform science and how science can inform art.
Plan: To connect recognized scientists from the NIH with regional artists. The artist will interview the scientist and interact with his or her work, creative process and vision. The artist will spend time in the laboratory/clinic observing the process, the equipment, raw data and the scientist's interaction with their patients. The resulting work will be part of an exhibition in the Mary Condon Hodgson Art Gallery located at Frederick Community College during the month of April 2010.
Art & Science Project Proposal
My mother-in-law, Gail, was recently diagnosed with Stage 3 ovarian cancer. This was the first time someone close to my family has been faced with a serious illness. I have watched as she has experienced the different stages of the illness and continues to try new medical methods that aid her in this battle. Gail is independent, resilient and a self-starter. I have never known her to fail at anything she sets her mind to. When the news came of her diagnosis, followed by the six months of chemo treatments we all started to think about the things that she would miss out on. Her gardening, her work as an award winning realtor, visits with her grandkids and enjoying her life in a house she and her husband built several years ago to enjoy their retirement years.
For Gail, it has been hard to sit back and let others do things that she is used to doing, even simple tasks such as loading the dishwasher or making dinner. I wondered what other responsibilities she missed doing, things she missed experiencing and people she missed seeing as she was homebound and doing her best to fight off this illness.
As a photographer I enjoy capturing moments in time with my camera. It is a tool that can be used to record favorite memories and experiences as well a document important events or to share simple achievements with those who cannot participate. My project proposal is to photograph a few of a patient’s favorite things. This could be a portrait of a loved one, an image of a favorite place or even a still-life of a favorite item.
Collaboration on this project would involve the photographer to engage the patient in what it is that they may miss most in their previous day-to-day activities. Is there something that could be captured in a photograph and if so, would the patient like to have it captured? After the images are created and presented to the patient, in a form similar to art therapy, the patient’s doctor could then visit with the patient and glean from them the importance of what was captured in the image.
Art and science are similar in several ways. Both the artist and scientist set out with a goal, question or purpose to fulfill. They construct a hypothesis, create or perform the “experiment”, analyze their findings and then share the results. Artists of course may not follow the scientific method exactly, but the steps are very similar and sometimes the outcome that one hoped for turns out very different from what was hypothesized.
As a photographer I have had the opportunity to see how art and science are joined. Working with a camera as well as processing and developing pictures in the darkroom is systematic as particular steps must be performed to achieve the desired outcome. Of course there is also the creative side, which I enjoy, especially when it comes to portraiture. When photographing people you never know what the end result will be.
February, 2009
The Mary Condon Hodgson Art Gallery at Frederick Community College invites art professionals and emerging artists to submit work of all media for a juried exhibition, The Art of Science/The Science of Art. Following the preliminary selection, artists will be interviewed by scientists from the National Institutes of Health, and then paired with a scientist to begin work on a collaborative art project. This collaborative project may take up to one year to complete.
Goal: To foster an understanding at Frederick Community College (FCC) and in the community of the relatedness of the process of creating scientific discoveries and artwork. The project will focus on how art can inform science and how science can inform art.
Plan: To connect recognized scientists from the NIH with regional artists. The artist will interview the scientist and interact with his or her work, creative process and vision. The artist will spend time in the laboratory/clinic observing the process, the equipment, raw data and the scientist's interaction with their patients. The resulting work will be part of an exhibition in the Mary Condon Hodgson Art Gallery located at Frederick Community College during the month of April 2010.
Art & Science Project Proposal
My mother-in-law, Gail, was recently diagnosed with Stage 3 ovarian cancer. This was the first time someone close to my family has been faced with a serious illness. I have watched as she has experienced the different stages of the illness and continues to try new medical methods that aid her in this battle. Gail is independent, resilient and a self-starter. I have never known her to fail at anything she sets her mind to. When the news came of her diagnosis, followed by the six months of chemo treatments we all started to think about the things that she would miss out on. Her gardening, her work as an award winning realtor, visits with her grandkids and enjoying her life in a house she and her husband built several years ago to enjoy their retirement years.
For Gail, it has been hard to sit back and let others do things that she is used to doing, even simple tasks such as loading the dishwasher or making dinner. I wondered what other responsibilities she missed doing, things she missed experiencing and people she missed seeing as she was homebound and doing her best to fight off this illness.
As a photographer I enjoy capturing moments in time with my camera. It is a tool that can be used to record favorite memories and experiences as well a document important events or to share simple achievements with those who cannot participate. My project proposal is to photograph a few of a patient’s favorite things. This could be a portrait of a loved one, an image of a favorite place or even a still-life of a favorite item.
Collaboration on this project would involve the photographer to engage the patient in what it is that they may miss most in their previous day-to-day activities. Is there something that could be captured in a photograph and if so, would the patient like to have it captured? After the images are created and presented to the patient, in a form similar to art therapy, the patient’s doctor could then visit with the patient and glean from them the importance of what was captured in the image.
Art and science are similar in several ways. Both the artist and scientist set out with a goal, question or purpose to fulfill. They construct a hypothesis, create or perform the “experiment”, analyze their findings and then share the results. Artists of course may not follow the scientific method exactly, but the steps are very similar and sometimes the outcome that one hoped for turns out very different from what was hypothesized.
As a photographer I have had the opportunity to see how art and science are joined. Working with a camera as well as processing and developing pictures in the darkroom is systematic as particular steps must be performed to achieve the desired outcome. Of course there is also the creative side, which I enjoy, especially when it comes to portraiture. When photographing people you never know what the end result will be.
February, 2009
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Quotes:
3/19/08 Liam almost 4
“How long’s it gonna take to grown me?”
4/1/09 Liam nearly 5 to Mommy
“I don’t want you to move out of the house because when I get older I want to live here and especially once I have the ingredients to make a baby.”
4/1/09 Liam nearly 5 to Mommy
“There is a Mommy at my school who owns one of the kids in my class.”
4/6/09 Ethan 4 ½
Ethan has been in Andrea’s care for a couple of years as one of her daycare charges and is like the 3rd son. After the second car accident in 2 months (with the daycare kids) he told her, “My mommy is a better driver than you. She doesn’t get into accidents.” Andrea laughed than proceeded to tell Ethan neither was her fault!
4/09 Ethan 4 ½
“Strangers don’t talk to people”
4/5/09 Luke 3
We were begging him to eat his meat and after about 10 minutes he said, “I will eat this chicken if you go downstairs.” We went and Mommy snuck up to see if he was tossing it in the garbage, but true to his word he was chewing it and ate half of what was on his plate.
4/14/09 Luke 3
“I you give me money you have to go over the bridge” rather than charging a toll for crossing the bridge
4/16/09 Liam nearly 5
Andrea had taught Liam to use the remote and turn on the Disney channel in the morning if he got up early. Well on this morning she stepped out of the shower to hear Liam screaming and crying, “There is nothing but ADULT shows on!” Oh the horror-must have been stuck on CNN.
4/16/09 Liam nearly 5
After we found a dead bird in the yard Andrea got sentimental. As she scooped it up she said, “I’m sure he had a good life.” Liam responded, “Yeah, until he died.”
5/7/09 Liam-5
We were in the grocery and saw a man in a wheel chair with a working dog beside him. I explained to the kids, that this dog helps him out on certain tasks, and that is why he is allowed in the store. Later we watched as he and his dog got in the van by use of a lift. Once in Liam very seriously asked, “Mommy, who do you think is going to drive? The man or the dog?”
5/7/09 Liam-5 to his friends, overheard by his mother
“If I grow up to be a Daddy I don’t want any children.”
3/19/08 Liam almost 4
“How long’s it gonna take to grown me?”
4/1/09 Liam nearly 5 to Mommy
“I don’t want you to move out of the house because when I get older I want to live here and especially once I have the ingredients to make a baby.”
4/1/09 Liam nearly 5 to Mommy
“There is a Mommy at my school who owns one of the kids in my class.”
4/6/09 Ethan 4 ½
Ethan has been in Andrea’s care for a couple of years as one of her daycare charges and is like the 3rd son. After the second car accident in 2 months (with the daycare kids) he told her, “My mommy is a better driver than you. She doesn’t get into accidents.” Andrea laughed than proceeded to tell Ethan neither was her fault!
4/09 Ethan 4 ½
“Strangers don’t talk to people”
4/5/09 Luke 3
We were begging him to eat his meat and after about 10 minutes he said, “I will eat this chicken if you go downstairs.” We went and Mommy snuck up to see if he was tossing it in the garbage, but true to his word he was chewing it and ate half of what was on his plate.
4/14/09 Luke 3
“I you give me money you have to go over the bridge” rather than charging a toll for crossing the bridge
4/16/09 Liam nearly 5
Andrea had taught Liam to use the remote and turn on the Disney channel in the morning if he got up early. Well on this morning she stepped out of the shower to hear Liam screaming and crying, “There is nothing but ADULT shows on!” Oh the horror-must have been stuck on CNN.
4/16/09 Liam nearly 5
After we found a dead bird in the yard Andrea got sentimental. As she scooped it up she said, “I’m sure he had a good life.” Liam responded, “Yeah, until he died.”
5/7/09 Liam-5
We were in the grocery and saw a man in a wheel chair with a working dog beside him. I explained to the kids, that this dog helps him out on certain tasks, and that is why he is allowed in the store. Later we watched as he and his dog got in the van by use of a lift. Once in Liam very seriously asked, “Mommy, who do you think is going to drive? The man or the dog?”
5/7/09 Liam-5 to his friends, overheard by his mother
“If I grow up to be a Daddy I don’t want any children.”
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Magazines
I was thinking about my magazine subscriptions the other day as I was flipping through People, which was a surprise gift from my brother about a year ago. In fact he asked on the phone several weeks into the subscriptions, “Do you get people?’ I took the question to heart, by responding, ‘Well sometimes I do, but you know people can be really hard to figure out.” Of course he was my mystery People magazine subscriber.
As I was leafing through the magazine I realized I don’t know half the celebrities, nor did I care to learn more about them. In fact the best part for me lately is the book review section. Maybe it’s time to break-up this relationship.
My magazine subscriptions probably started with something like Scholastic or another leaflet that came from grade school. They then evolved into buying teen magazines from the grocery store. As a pre-teen I couldn’t wait to join my mother at the grocery. She would shop and I would leaf through the latest Teen Beat, BOP! or the like usually walking out with something to help maintain my Duran Duran obsession. I still have a banker’s box of all these magazines in chronological order, minus the Duran Duran pull-outs (centerfolds that would later decorate my room).
At about that same time I also bought my first Seventeen magazine and must have read it cover to cover including the ads. I can still visualize the young teen model on the cover who had won that year’s model contest and had an all expenses trip to New York City. That turned into a subscription which I received for many years, until Mademoiselle took its place in my life. I must have had Mademoiselle in my life for ten years, from a teen, through college and into my twenties. It was a good magazine for young women-articles that were good and easy to read and fashion that was attainable. But I finally got tired of the same articles each year and turned my attention to a shelter magazine in between my newsstand purchases of bridal magazines.
Southern Living coincided with my new stage in life, and I figured I didn’t need the fashion tips or article on how to snag a man. Looking back at my fashion in those days, maybe I should have kept a fashion magazine in my life, but I was content and longed to look at pictures of interiors and gardens. Again, this relationship went on for about ten years, but I grew tired of that too and stopped subscriptions altogether upon the arrival of my children.
We do receive the music magazine Paste, but I just like it for the CD samplers that come each time. I do enjoy visiting my friend Erin in her Upper West Side apartment, not just for the good coffee and city life but also due to her magazine collection. Of course she should have a good collection given her employer is The New Yorker. Maybe I should just beg her for her castoffs (like Black Book).
So where does that leave me? I am not going to get Red Book or Women’s Day. I already know how to make the Easter Bunny cake and don’t care to read about raising young kids, plus those are what you look at while in the waiting room at the doctors. Vogue is fun to look through, but too out-of-touch with my life.
The good news is this leaves more room in my life for reading books. In the past year my book consumption has picked up so maybe that’s all I need.
As I was leafing through the magazine I realized I don’t know half the celebrities, nor did I care to learn more about them. In fact the best part for me lately is the book review section. Maybe it’s time to break-up this relationship.
My magazine subscriptions probably started with something like Scholastic or another leaflet that came from grade school. They then evolved into buying teen magazines from the grocery store. As a pre-teen I couldn’t wait to join my mother at the grocery. She would shop and I would leaf through the latest Teen Beat, BOP! or the like usually walking out with something to help maintain my Duran Duran obsession. I still have a banker’s box of all these magazines in chronological order, minus the Duran Duran pull-outs (centerfolds that would later decorate my room).
At about that same time I also bought my first Seventeen magazine and must have read it cover to cover including the ads. I can still visualize the young teen model on the cover who had won that year’s model contest and had an all expenses trip to New York City. That turned into a subscription which I received for many years, until Mademoiselle took its place in my life. I must have had Mademoiselle in my life for ten years, from a teen, through college and into my twenties. It was a good magazine for young women-articles that were good and easy to read and fashion that was attainable. But I finally got tired of the same articles each year and turned my attention to a shelter magazine in between my newsstand purchases of bridal magazines.
Southern Living coincided with my new stage in life, and I figured I didn’t need the fashion tips or article on how to snag a man. Looking back at my fashion in those days, maybe I should have kept a fashion magazine in my life, but I was content and longed to look at pictures of interiors and gardens. Again, this relationship went on for about ten years, but I grew tired of that too and stopped subscriptions altogether upon the arrival of my children.
We do receive the music magazine Paste, but I just like it for the CD samplers that come each time. I do enjoy visiting my friend Erin in her Upper West Side apartment, not just for the good coffee and city life but also due to her magazine collection. Of course she should have a good collection given her employer is The New Yorker. Maybe I should just beg her for her castoffs (like Black Book).
So where does that leave me? I am not going to get Red Book or Women’s Day. I already know how to make the Easter Bunny cake and don’t care to read about raising young kids, plus those are what you look at while in the waiting room at the doctors. Vogue is fun to look through, but too out-of-touch with my life.
The good news is this leaves more room in my life for reading books. In the past year my book consumption has picked up so maybe that’s all I need.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Dance in the Woods
This Thursday I am beginning something I left fifteen years ago. I am taking the mini-van by myself up near Harpers Ferry, riding alongside the Potomac River (on the Maryland side) down through the river town of Sandyhook and up into the woods for my modern dance class. Slipperyslope sits in the forest and the studio has views of the trees through the windows in the two story structure. My family and I visited it this weekend so I would be able to find it on my first day of class. She has two donkeys, a couple of wardering cats and of course dogs. I can't think of a better way to get away and to reconnect with myself and dance.
I have recently noticed that I am wandering back to the things that I left behind fifteen or so years ago. In between college and now, exercise included several Jazzercise classes and recently two years of yoga. Now suddenly I am a mother of two, but with the realization that if I don't do something creative for myself I may implode. Of course I have picked up my camera again this year, after a long time "off", but there is something to be said for dance. Maybe it's the fact that it is expressive, or the need to feel sexy and beautiful in my own space. But there also lays the challenge for me. Thérèse is an aerial dancer and instructor. If you don't know what that is about, then just look at the pictures. It looks easy and difficult all at the same time. Maybe I am past my time to experiment with this sort of thing, but I at least want to give it a try.
This leads to a whole other realm, of photographing the dance company, which I suggested and she is excited about. I have some wonderful, contemplative photos of a dancer I knew in college as well as my own self-portraits from that time (as a dancer). So who knows, maybe I am going back to my roots. Grow where you are planted.
http://www.theresekeegan.com/Index/Welcome.html
I have recently noticed that I am wandering back to the things that I left behind fifteen or so years ago. In between college and now, exercise included several Jazzercise classes and recently two years of yoga. Now suddenly I am a mother of two, but with the realization that if I don't do something creative for myself I may implode. Of course I have picked up my camera again this year, after a long time "off", but there is something to be said for dance. Maybe it's the fact that it is expressive, or the need to feel sexy and beautiful in my own space. But there also lays the challenge for me. Thérèse is an aerial dancer and instructor. If you don't know what that is about, then just look at the pictures. It looks easy and difficult all at the same time. Maybe I am past my time to experiment with this sort of thing, but I at least want to give it a try.
This leads to a whole other realm, of photographing the dance company, which I suggested and she is excited about. I have some wonderful, contemplative photos of a dancer I knew in college as well as my own self-portraits from that time (as a dancer). So who knows, maybe I am going back to my roots. Grow where you are planted.
http://www.theresekeegan.com/Index/Welcome.html
Photo Friday, Edible
My sons this past weekend in Harpers Ferry, WV....and no, they did not finish the frozen custard.Friday, March 20, 2009
Shadows
Have you ever been in an old house and seen the shadows? Not the dark shadows in the corner of a creepy old house, but rather the shadows that appear in the noon sun. The place where the pictures hung, the wall that the bed rested against and where the bureau stood. I have seen it in several circumstances and wondered about the former inhabitants. Shadows left there either due to years of cigarette smoke, a wood burning stove or simply lack of dusting. Once the space has been cleared there is still an impression that is present where everything used to be.
Years ago, my husband and I toured a historic house in the Louisiana on River Road outside of New Orleans. The historians associated with Laura Plantation left several rooms empty for visitors to see the shadows left by the furniture. It created an eerie effect even in daylight and left the sightseer wondering about life within the house.
I am sure my grandmother’s house left some of the same impressions. She lived in that Lexington, Kentucky bungalow from the 1960s until 2003 or so when she moved in with my parents for the last two years of her life. Grandmama was a packrat. When she died I was already pregnant with my first child and not in much condition to help my mother sort through and pack up the house. We attended the funeral and shuffled though a few odds and ends, but really my help was minimal. I made one more trip after my first son’s birth to Kentucky. I was already pregnant with our second son so again not much help between tending to a baby and being told not the lift heavy things. My Granddaddy had a workshop in the basement that was very organized at one point with nails and screws sorted into baby jars that lined the shelves. He died way too young, nearly 20 years before her death and she didn’t have the energy or heart to do anything except pile stuff on top of more stuff within her house and in the basement. It took my mother about three years to clear out the house and it was like an archeological dig. I can’t even imagine the daunting task and all the shadows left behind.
One can only hope that when we do leave this place there is something of significance that loved ones can hold on to. Someone may move into your residence after you leave and wonder about you and all of your shadows.
Years ago, my husband and I toured a historic house in the Louisiana on River Road outside of New Orleans. The historians associated with Laura Plantation left several rooms empty for visitors to see the shadows left by the furniture. It created an eerie effect even in daylight and left the sightseer wondering about life within the house.
I am sure my grandmother’s house left some of the same impressions. She lived in that Lexington, Kentucky bungalow from the 1960s until 2003 or so when she moved in with my parents for the last two years of her life. Grandmama was a packrat. When she died I was already pregnant with my first child and not in much condition to help my mother sort through and pack up the house. We attended the funeral and shuffled though a few odds and ends, but really my help was minimal. I made one more trip after my first son’s birth to Kentucky. I was already pregnant with our second son so again not much help between tending to a baby and being told not the lift heavy things. My Granddaddy had a workshop in the basement that was very organized at one point with nails and screws sorted into baby jars that lined the shelves. He died way too young, nearly 20 years before her death and she didn’t have the energy or heart to do anything except pile stuff on top of more stuff within her house and in the basement. It took my mother about three years to clear out the house and it was like an archeological dig. I can’t even imagine the daunting task and all the shadows left behind.
One can only hope that when we do leave this place there is something of significance that loved ones can hold on to. Someone may move into your residence after you leave and wonder about you and all of your shadows.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Bookmobile
I think in images and had almost forgotten this one until I climbed on board a Bookmobile again several years ago, after a 20+ year hiatus. If I could paint, I would depict this image, but for now I am just left with the words to describe it.
Growing up, the bookmobile use to park at the end of our cul-de-sac in the dusk of summer. My mother loved books so she would drag me down to the bottom of our steep hill to climb aboard. I remember the scene perfectly now and often think of it as a postcard. We would hear the engine approach then cut off and down the hill we would walk to the immense bus, with its yellow lights streaming out from the inside. Those lights combined with the lightning bugs were our only guides. The sky was sinking into darkness and the trees were already outlined in black.
I think one of the only things I looked forward to as I boarded was seeing one or two of my neighboring best friends, Josh or Kevin aboard too. Once there, we would invariably find some books to check out and talk about Star Wars or some other childhood fascination. I was never a very good student, although I certainly tried hard enough. Reading did not come easily to me and I’m sure my mother was mystified at my lack of interest in books. A visit to the library was not a happy one for me. The only promise the bookmobile held for me was a chance meeting with my neighboring friends, and the lovely image of a lumbering bus in the warm, cool of a summer night.
Growing up, the bookmobile use to park at the end of our cul-de-sac in the dusk of summer. My mother loved books so she would drag me down to the bottom of our steep hill to climb aboard. I remember the scene perfectly now and often think of it as a postcard. We would hear the engine approach then cut off and down the hill we would walk to the immense bus, with its yellow lights streaming out from the inside. Those lights combined with the lightning bugs were our only guides. The sky was sinking into darkness and the trees were already outlined in black.
I think one of the only things I looked forward to as I boarded was seeing one or two of my neighboring best friends, Josh or Kevin aboard too. Once there, we would invariably find some books to check out and talk about Star Wars or some other childhood fascination. I was never a very good student, although I certainly tried hard enough. Reading did not come easily to me and I’m sure my mother was mystified at my lack of interest in books. A visit to the library was not a happy one for me. The only promise the bookmobile held for me was a chance meeting with my neighboring friends, and the lovely image of a lumbering bus in the warm, cool of a summer night.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Love Letters in the Internet Age
What is to become of all the text messages, e-mails and instant messaging that people pass back and forth on a regular basis? Or even more important what is to become of the love letter? Has it already disappeared? I am sure some still put pen to paper and compose a letter for their significant other, but for the teenagers of the Internet age what are they to do. Do they print off what their boyfriend wrote to them, and tuck it under their pillow. Somehow it seems impersonal. Will the teenagers even get when Ryan Adams sings Come Pick Me Up (what I believe to be one of the best songs in recent rock and roll):
Or will you cower in fear
In your favorite sweater
With an old love letter
Adams must value the letter as he sings in yet another song:
When you get the time
Sit down and write me a letter
When you're feeling better
Drop me a line
I get it and I agree. When was the last time you received a letter that was not a birthday card?
I have several shoe boxes full of love letters. Two boxes are from my husband and were sent primarily when he was away in Alaska the first summer of our romance and then another one entirely dedicated to his 27 months spent as a Peace Corps volunteer in Guatemala. It is amusing to glance through them and recount the early parts of our relationship. My sons may not be apt to read them when they are older (and there are a few I don’t want them to get a hold of), but maybe their wives or future daughters will.
I then have yet another box full of my first real boyfriend’s letters to me. I re-read them a couple of years ago after I re-connected with him. They were good to have read because it reminded me of why and how the relationship failed.
So as I listen to Ryan Adams sing about letters, it brings me back to correspondence without the aid of the postal service. It does not have the same romance, sitting waiting expectantly for that e-mail to come through. Does the receiver even question if the sender is sending it? At least with a letter you can recognize the sender’s handwriting. I remember waiting for days for the post to come and being thrilled when I would reach in and see the red, white and blue air mail envelope peeking out from the various catalogues and bills. Now there is no thrill in walking down the driveway to the mailbox, at least not for me.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Trading Places
Concert
Last night I attended a concert with a friend for a Girl’s Night Out. It’s been a long time since she saw a live musical performance and this was a treat since it was a small venue and we had some eye candy too. Now I’m not a musician, so maybe this following description is not unusual
or even that great of a feat, but we were both impressed. First Jay Nash, the person who I went to see, came on by himself and played a song, just him and his guitar. This is what I expected for his entire set, yet instead for the second song he invited the drummer for Greg Laswell’s band on stage to accompany him. Then for another song he invited the guitarist for Greg Laswell’s band on too. There was a lot of talk about the four musicians traveling and touring together in the drummer’s Toyota Sienna (minivan no less!). Soon Greg Laswell was onstage to play keyboards, and it was then that I began to understand the friendship and compatibility between these musicians. They didn’t let their egos get in the way, but instead relished being onstage accompanying one another. They were able to rock out to one of Jay’s songs when he got on the electric guitar and the guitarist got on the bass and everyone looked like they were having too much fun.
I figured after Jay’s set he might sit back and view the rest of the concert, possibly joining them onstage for one song. I talked with him between sets and he asked if I was staying to see Greg’s performance-of course I was. For the second song, they invited Jay onstage to play the bass. The story goes something like this: when they found out they were touring together Jay said they had about enough musicians to make up a full band and should he bring a bass-not that any of them played bass, but it provided a good opportunity to learn. The shared bass was born. After that round Greg tried his guitar and finding it was out of tune Jay offered up his, even assisting to strap it on him. It brought a lot of laughs, but here again was an example of musicians comfortable enough to switch places, try new instruments and even offer up a favorite piece of equipment.
Of course these are seasoned performers and they know what makes for an appealing presentation. I marvel at people that can get on stage and be so natural and at ease with themselves and the audience. But last night was a lesson in sharing, something my two preschool boys could take a lesson in.
I figured after Jay’s set he might sit back and view the rest of the concert, possibly joining them onstage for one song. I talked with him between sets and he asked if I was staying to see Greg’s performance-of course I was. For the second song, they invited Jay onstage to play the bass. The story goes something like this: when they found out they were touring together Jay said they had about enough musicians to make up a full band and should he bring a bass-not that any of them played bass, but it provided a good opportunity to learn. The shared bass was born. After that round Greg tried his guitar and finding it was out of tune Jay offered up his, even assisting to strap it on him. It brought a lot of laughs, but here again was an example of musicians comfortable enough to switch places, try new instruments and even offer up a favorite piece of equipment.
Of course these are seasoned performers and they know what makes for an appealing presentation. I marvel at people that can get on stage and be so natural and at ease with themselves and the audience. But last night was a lesson in sharing, something my two preschool boys could take a lesson in.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Rearview Mirror
I was talking to my friend the other day about her past and mine. She called later to let me know about something freaky that happened to her. Like it was a message sent from somewhere. It reminded me of an experience that I had on my final day of college, and thought, “I need to write about that.” Then promptly forgot about it until I was listening (and re-listening and re-listening) to a song by Garrison Starr, one of my favorite musicians of the past year.
I completed my four year college career in a remarkable four year time frame. It really was a big deal compared to most of my peers. Out of the 15 students from our freshman class photography program, only three of us graduated on time, and we were all women (and rommates).
It was the last day of school, graduation day, I guess, and my Chevette was packed and ready to pull off campus. I started to coast down the two lane road as I pulled away from all the dorms rooms I lived in, friends I made and challenged I faced. I reached the beginning of the bridge that crosses the Potomac River into Maryland, the land from which I was transplanted from. I was leaving West Virginia to go home after four years of hard work. I looked up to catch one last glimpse of Shepherd College in my rearview mirror and at the same time I must have hit a bump on that span of bridge. At that moment the rearview mirror fell, in a very undignified way, from the window to the floor. I never did catch that last look…..and to this day I remember that you can’t look back.
Here is Garrison's song that helped me remember:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sTicnR-ybWo
I completed my four year college career in a remarkable four year time frame. It really was a big deal compared to most of my peers. Out of the 15 students from our freshman class photography program, only three of us graduated on time, and we were all women (and rommates).
It was the last day of school, graduation day, I guess, and my Chevette was packed and ready to pull off campus. I started to coast down the two lane road as I pulled away from all the dorms rooms I lived in, friends I made and challenged I faced. I reached the beginning of the bridge that crosses the Potomac River into Maryland, the land from which I was transplanted from. I was leaving West Virginia to go home after four years of hard work. I looked up to catch one last glimpse of Shepherd College in my rearview mirror and at the same time I must have hit a bump on that span of bridge. At that moment the rearview mirror fell, in a very undignified way, from the window to the floor. I never did catch that last look…..and to this day I remember that you can’t look back.
Here is Garrison's song that helped me remember:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sTicnR-ybWo
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Latest Curfew Ever
I was raised in the 70s. That will help with the timeline of this period of my life. While in sixth grade, I had a curfew of12:30am. It was the latest curfew I would ever be granted. I guess the roller skating rink closed at 12:30am which made the decision for my parents. We would always go on Friday nights. Someone’s mom or dad would drive a group of us, drop us off and pick us up again at 12:30am. It was freedom. I still remember the nervousness in walking into the roller rink, the flashing lights, the tying of the rented skates and the hopes that at the couple’s song maybe someone would ask me to skate. We mostly skated in groups of girls and there was a lot of giggling, trips to the bathroom to check our lip-gloss and whispers saying, “He’s here.” Unfortunately, I had a crush on my best friends “boyfriend” rather than on my own. Mine was only a “boyfriend” in name and for one or two couple’s skates. We never did more than hold hands at the roller rink. I would later call him, that summer after sixth grade, and tell him to never ever call me again. But before that happened and we were a ”couple” there was that moment of anticipation and wondering if he would ask me to skate to “Total Eclipse of the Heart”. To this day, when I hear that song on the radio I turn it up to eleven.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Poetry Class
I was in yoga class the other night and got to thinking about a class I took during my Ninth Grade Community House year while at Sandy Spring Friends School. The school was unique enough in the way the teachers presented the subject matter to the students, but Community House was an entirely different year and was more akin to a year-long, sleep-away camp rather than a traditional public school’s freshman year.
The class I was remembering occurred during the winter trimester. It was held next door in the Historic Sandy Spring Friends Meeting House which was built in 1817 and was taught by Mike DeHart. Poetry. Ninth grade. It was embraced by the artistic or introspective students and rejected by those who thought writing poetry was for pansies.
I can still feel the drafty air and smell the cold dampness in the Meeting House. The fabric of the long maroon pew cushions that we placed on the floor as our meditation mats didn’t provide much of a barrier from the cold floor but it was welcomed as we were told to close our eyes. I was aware enough to appreciate that only a few students per trimester were lucky enough to have class in this historic building, much less enjoy relaxation poetry during our time there.
I wrote one of my favorite poems there in that building. It is not a piece that is worth sharing or publishing, but when I read it, it brings me back to that building and that time in my life. I felt so alone at times, during that school year, yet learned some very important lessons about myself and resilience. We were taught to relax, open our minds and write down whatever thoughts and feelings came to us during that class through the relaxation practice. We were told to imagine a safe, joyful place, and now as an adult when I get tired, stressed or depressed I often try to mimic that same practice. I engage in this mediation exercise on weekly basis at the end of my yoga class on Wednesday evenings and always drift back to that meeting house while in the midst of Shavasana.
The class I was remembering occurred during the winter trimester. It was held next door in the Historic Sandy Spring Friends Meeting House which was built in 1817 and was taught by Mike DeHart. Poetry. Ninth grade. It was embraced by the artistic or introspective students and rejected by those who thought writing poetry was for pansies.
I can still feel the drafty air and smell the cold dampness in the Meeting House. The fabric of the long maroon pew cushions that we placed on the floor as our meditation mats didn’t provide much of a barrier from the cold floor but it was welcomed as we were told to close our eyes. I was aware enough to appreciate that only a few students per trimester were lucky enough to have class in this historic building, much less enjoy relaxation poetry during our time there.
I wrote one of my favorite poems there in that building. It is not a piece that is worth sharing or publishing, but when I read it, it brings me back to that building and that time in my life. I felt so alone at times, during that school year, yet learned some very important lessons about myself and resilience. We were taught to relax, open our minds and write down whatever thoughts and feelings came to us during that class through the relaxation practice. We were told to imagine a safe, joyful place, and now as an adult when I get tired, stressed or depressed I often try to mimic that same practice. I engage in this mediation exercise on weekly basis at the end of my yoga class on Wednesday evenings and always drift back to that meeting house while in the midst of Shavasana.
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