The love of a father

I swam competitively when I was in high school.  We worked out in a crappy pool covered by an inflatable bubble during the winter months.  If the fans quit working or it snowed, the bubble collapsed onto the surface of the pool.  A guy threw up in the water once, but our coach insisted that we keep swimming because “it’ll spread out.”  Another time the fog inside the bubble was so thick that we couldn’t see three feet in any direction.  We positioned ourselves around the edges of the pool and made appropriate splashing sounds while the coach sat in the fog blowing his whistle for most of an hour.

Perhaps swimming is a genetic thing.  My Dad swam on a college swim team, and now Lauren is turning out for her school team.  I respect her discipline and willingness to take on the commitment.  And if anyone can make swimming a more social sport, Lauren’s the one.

I also get some points for my own discipline and willingness to take on her commitment.  I’m driving her tomorrow, when she starts two morning workouts a week that begin at 5:00 AM.  I’ve never been more interested in carpooling, and will make a point of giving her more driving practice.  I should also add a note of appreciation for my Mom, who was one of those faithful early morning drivers of our carpool in days of yore before we could drive ourselves.

Like I told Susan while we were out in the wind and pouring rain watching Zack play soccer last weekend and again today, I think I’ll have a good reply if the kids ever tell us that we don’t love them.

Sometimes change sucks

In May Zack started delivering the West Seattle Herald to about 30 customers around our neighborhood on Wednesday afternoons.  His first time doing the route by himself was in the pouring rain, pulling papers out of his backpack, checking addresses off his list, trying to keep everything dry – what a miserable way to start a job.  Susan got a tearful call from our newly-minted carrier, and was able to help him get the papers delivered and figure out some easier ways to do it next time.

Zack settled right into the routine.  His buddies helped him deliver papers.  He struck up friendly conversations with neighbors.  He acquired new customers, earned tips, and wrote thank you notes.  He deposited checks in his new bank account and had his own money to spend on the school band trip to Idaho.  Zack enjoyed a responsibility that belonged just to him.

Now big newspapers are fighting for survival.  Our own well-loved Seattle Post-Intelligencer lost the fight a few months ago, leaving the city with one daily paper that has no soul.  Smaller papers are feeling the squeeze, too.  The West Seattle Herald is consolidating its operations and switching to distribution by mail, and this past Wednesday was the last time neighborhood carriers delivered the paper.

Like millions of boys, having a paper route was Zack’s first regular job.  Like millions of Americans, he recently lost his job.  He’s already had at least one of his customers ask if he’s available for other work, so it’s good that he can see how ‘referrals’ and ‘networking’ and ‘good customer service’ come into play.  It just bugs me a little bit that he had his first taste of ‘unemployment’ at the age of 13.

Learning

This evening Lauren (15) was preparing for a Biology test while the rest of us watched “Marley and Me.”  She took a break and came downstairs to give us a preview of what she was studying.

Lauren understands that she is a visual learner and uses flash cards to very good effect.  Somewhere along the way she determined that she doesn’t respond as well to blue or black writing as she does to other colors, so she made her current set of flash cards with purple and yellow pens.  Don’t ask me.

Allow me one little example of her approach to learning:  knowing that “ventre” is the French word for stomach helps her to remember that “ventral” refers to the front surfaces of any structure.  Same thing with “dos” (French word for back) and “dorsal.”  Lauren thought French and Biology were completely unrelated subjects, then she started discovering connections like these.

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Our thinking about education has always been that we want the kids to love learning, as that’s something they’ll enjoy all their lives.  Lauren showed us this evening an awesome example of how she’s drinking in facts and information and finding new ways in which to connect pieces of her world.  It’s a great encouragement and delight to see her education actually blossoming – like she is – right before our eyes.

Beauty

As the parent of a teenage daughter, I can get bogged down with daily details of school, schedules, footwear, laundry, phone use, clothes on the floor, lunches, and retainers.

But now and again I see the radiant young lady who dazzles me in practically every way, and I can hardly believe that I get to be her Dad:

Space between the ears

Zack (13) and I were in the kitchen when I noticed him reaching into the bottle of vitamins – again.

“Didn’t you just have some of those a few minutes ago?” I asked.

“Oh yeah,” Zack replied, replacing the top on the bottle.  He flashed me a slightly sheepish grin.

“Won’t it be nice when your brain starts working again?”

“Yep.”

“Do you miss it?” I wondered.

“Nope.”

Behold, my son the foodie

The kids’ youth group is doing a 30-hour ‘famine’ this weekend as an opportunity to experience a little bit of what it’s like to go without food, and to raise money to help feed some hungry kids.  Both Lauren and Zack have been very interested in being a part of this event.  When Zack was hit by the flu that ravaged our household this week, his first response was disappointment that he might have to miss ‘the fast.’  I love that in a 13 year-old.

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While he was sick (and I was recuperating), Zack spent a fair amount of the day tucked into bed upstairs and I was working on stuff downstairs.  We were keeping in touch via text messaging.  Here’s one of the threads:

Z:  Hot Cheetos sound good to you right now?

(I went up to his room and he asked if I would make him a grilled cheese sandwich.  I said I would.)

Z:  Thanketh thou.

Me:  Thou art welcome!

Me:  Behold, I perceive that thy health improveth somewhat.  But be not deceived into thinking that thou art well enough to attend The Fast, even though thy heart yearns mightily to do so.  Thy grilled cheese sandwich shall be with thee presently.

Z:  Thanketh thou…  I do not feel well enough to attend the fast.

Me:  Verily, thou hast spoken wisely, my son.

Z:  I accept thy praise, father.

Z:  When is Easter?

Me:  April 12.

Z:  OK – so like in 2 weeks?

Z:  Honey-glazed prawns.  Hong Kong crispy noodles and roasted duck from Lee’s Asian Restaurant.  My friend recommended them to me.

Me:  Mr Chow Hound!

Z:  I always end  up talking about food… it’s funny.

Z:  They also recommended that place Cactus on Alki.

Z:  Excellent sandwich!

Me:  OK Bubba – I have to get some work done.  You are too much!

Out with the old, in with the old

The day after Thanksgiving was quiet, rainy and cool.  The kids were doing their own things, so Susan and I decided to go through filing cabinets and see what we could get rid of.

We dug out bank statements, maintenance records for cars we no longer own, outdated insurance policies, old Daytimers (saving occasional pages), twenty year-old paystubs, lecture notes from college courses that we haven’t looked at for 30 years, old travel brochures, purchase and sale documents from our first house, newspaper and magazine articles on long-dead topics, receipts, prospecti, letters from old girlfriends, certificates of recognition, and yada yada yada.

Most of this crap could be recycled, and we filled our giant recycling tote so full I could barely roll it out to the street.  We completely emptied one four-drawer filing cabinet and made more room in the remaining two.  The cool, damp weather was perfect for burning stacks of old financial records in the woodstove.  Though I felt like a fireman shoveling coal into a locomotive’s boiler, it was great getting rid of unnecessary stuff and heating the house for two days.

When I get on an organizing roll, it can be hard to stop.  Since the juices were flowing, I undertook the transformation of the downstairs [w]rec[k] room into a space for the kids (15 and 13) to use with their friends.  Moved remaining filing cabinets from middle of wall to far end.  Removed two six-foot tables.  Cleared out more boxes of paperwork.  Admitted that I’m never going to reupholster the orange naugahyde chair that’s ripped open and losing half of its stuffing.  Gave away games and stuffed animals the kids no longer want.  Brought in a basket chair scavenged from some friends.  Moved in the blue hide-a-bed that happens to match the basket chair.  Moved the writing desk to a more useful spot.  Brought down the TV and got the Wii out of our bedroom.  Relocated some lamps so the room is more softly lit.  Vacuumed up dead spiders.

We didn’t have to buy a thing to make the rec room so much more comfortable and inviting.  It’s a great place to hang out.  Zack told us that now he could invite his friends over more often.  We’re less likely to be banned from the living room or have our bedroom taken over when kids watch a movie or play Wii.  Clearing out paperwork and better organizing our living space made us all feel just a little more grown up.  I’d have to call that a win-win.

Even better than we thought

When we last visited the issue of selecting a high school for our Lovely and Capable Daughter (LCD), the Wise and Mature Parents (WMP) had made a bold decision that did not initially sit well with LCD.  The WMP anticipated and prepared for some ‘blowback.’  It came, and we gained valuable experience in standing firm.

Knowing that LCD does best when she feels connected to people around her, WMP signed her up for August crew camp with others from her new school.  She began meeting and making new friends right and left, and even wore the school’s sweatshirt in public.  By the time classes started, LCD knew dozens of other students and was already identifying with the school.

Now with a few weeks of classes under her belt, WMP happily report that LCD loves school.  She continues to form new friendships and has an outstanding group of teachers.  Solid study habits she established in middle school enable her to keep up with homework and assignments.  WMP even heard her adjuring Zack not to let schoolwork pile up until the last minute.

I feel as though I am watching my LCD in the midst of a major bloom.  As with earlier blooms, this one reveals more of her capability and beauty and competence and grace and strength – stop me here.  LCD is doing an exceptional job of navigating a big transition in  her life, managing her time, making new friends, keeping track of old friends, and rising to all kinds of new challenges.  Room’s a mess, but in the important things, I couldn’t be more proud of her.

East Coast 08, part 10: Bee-yoo-tee and cultcha – lawts of it

94 degrees, 64% humidity

First stop, the American Museum of Natural History, “New York City’s Top Family Attraction.” Easy to see how this place suggests itself as the perfect location for a movie like Night at the Museum (Robin Williams, Ben Stiller, Dick Van Dyke, Mickey Rooney, Owen Wilson). Fantastic exhibits on dinosaurs, birds, marine life, space, cultural histories, science, and more.

Our third day in New York was the third day in a row with temperatures above 90 degrees. That’s an official heat wave.

East Coast 08, part 9: Smoke on the water

93 degrees, 64% humidity

We slept in the next morning, got brunch at the local Whole Foods, then rode the subway from the Upper West Side all the way down to Battery Park. What a spot: Manhattan’s skyline behind us, boats and ships crisscrossing the Hudson and Upper New York Bay, the Statue of Liberty, beautiful New Jersey across the river, and the sounds of the city all around us.

We walked up to the site of the World Trade Center but couldn’t see much because of the construction projects taking place there. The Ground Zero Museum didn’t look like our kind of place, but we were very touched and intrigued by what we saw at St. Paul’s Chapel, directly across the street from Ground Zero. For starters, a huge sycamore tree in the churchyard took the brunt of blasts from falling debris, and the chapel remained relatively unscathed – not one broken window. Quite an image of the sacrifice of one for the preservation of many.