Change Rest Change

It was a cool great day on the Taconic Parkway, but the weather was perfect for walking around Manhattan.

We had zipped down to help a friend move a few things to their apartment on the upper West side and then headed to the other side of Central Park to see a Turner exhibit. 

T1 drove us, a huge change from the country driving when he cut his teeth. It was unnerving but also a little thrilling to see him navigate Manhattan streets and city life with the skill and confidence of an adult. 

The Big Guy lived in Boston when you’re first married, and our day trip reminded us of how much we once loved city living. we took a secured us walk from the parking garage to the museum and back, soaking up the music of at least seven languages heard from passersby and the aromas of myriad restaurants.

It was a feast for our senses and a change from the daily grind almost as huge as realizing that Thing1 will be perfectly fine when he gets out on his own. But a lot of times a changes isn’t just as good as a rest, it’s way better.

A Little Night Magic 

I like my life. It’s busy, and it’s full, but, like most people’s, it’s pretty routine. We were headed to hibachi after practice to celebrate my birthday a night early since Thing1 had plans for tonight, but even that seemed pretty routine.
I love celebrating the kids birthdays, but I’m not really big on celebrating my own. I’m not afraid of getting older, but they seem to highlight how unsurprising life has become.
Last night’s birthday celebration turned out to be full of surprises.
We were all surprised when friends walked in after we’d ordered, and we said happy hello. The Big Guy surprised me with a gift certificate for a serious car wash–inside and out (guaranteed to remove that faint smell of spilled milkshake). On the way home the Burlington county sheriff surprised my son with a quick stop to let him and us know that the front license plate was loose, but the best surprise was yet to come.
We got home well after dark, and we knew we needed to get in and let the dog out. The car lights switched off as we exited the car, and realized I’d forgotten to turn on the porch light before I left. It was then that we saw the light on the gravel driveway and path. Surrounded by mountains, we get very little light pollution, so we instantly looked up expecting to see the moon. 
Instead, we saw a field of stars, scattered like dust across a velvet sky. We stood in silence. The only sound was the wind moving through the trees, and just before the dog could be heard whining from the house to let us know she really had to go, I was quite sure I heard it whisper, “Surprise!”

Growth Spurt

In retrospect, regaling the boys with tales of Summer camp on Lake Champlain highlighted by trips to the original Ben & Jerry’s to tackle the Vermonster with my bunk mates could only have been seen as a challenge by your all-american ten year old. 

After all, I only told them about the free T-shirts we got for consuming a scoop of every single flavor Ben & Jerry’s made in 1985 and not about the all night bathroom visits that followed.  In the end, I could only blame myself when Thing2 spotted the Ben & Jerry’s store on Church street in Burlington and began mentally planning a scaled down version of the Vermonster for one – after a healthy lunch of course. 

But it was vacation — however small, and I let him get two scoops of Fully Baked in a chocolate dipped cone if only to prove to him that, despite the start of a new growth spurt, his stomach hasn’t outgrown his eyes or his imagination.

Love the One You’re With

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They say the best camera is the one you have with you. It’s one of the reasons I abandoned my SLR camera in favour of one-handed point-and-shoots while Thing2 still wanted to hold my hand everywhere we went.  

I’ve found the same holds true for art supplies. I have a drawer full of watercolour supplies, but lately, it’s the $6 purse-sized watercolour tin and purse-sized journal that have been winning the title of ‘best art supplies’.  

More from Less

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The Big Guy and I rarely go to movies. It’s too expensive once you add snacks, and since most of the movies geared towards adolescent boys rely on volume to sell their stories, we’re just as happy to let the kids watch them on Netflix with the headphones plugged in.

We are religious about our local theater, Hubbard Hall in Cambridge, NY, however.  The title on the playbill is irrelevant. When Hubbard Hall announces a new play, we make plans to see it with and then without the boys.

We were both reminded of the reason why on Saturday night when we went to see Tennessee William’s Glass Menagerie. The most autobiographical of his plays, it depicts the dysfunctional mother and her two dysfunctional older children trying to carve out a living and a life for themselves.

Hubbard Hall is famous for stripping down a play to its bare bones. Occasionally they incorporate elaborate sets into the stage design, but more frequently, minimal props and sets are used.  Hubbard Hall has been fortunate to have had a string of wonderful directors and actors, and the less elaborate sets let the audience focus on performances where simplicity works to suspend reality for two hours.  It leaves the viewer gripping their seat the entire time as they react to the play and pray for the spell to continue as long as possible.

Saturday did not disappoint.  When the daughter Laura’s unicorn and then her heart are broken, I could see other audience members on the verge of tears.  When the son leaves and reflects on his abandonment of his family, people next to me were audibly crying. 

The play ended almost on a whisper, and, even though it was almost the cost of a movie for four (minus the snacks), the Big Guy and I walked back to the car in awe — as we always are — of how much bang we got for our bucks.

Reading the Signs

Last week there were still patches of snow on the ground. this morning the Daylily greens have exploded from little green shoots into broadleaves.

I don’t think of day lilies as signs of spring. They grow quickly, exploding into a mass oof orange and red.  And, as soon as  their giant orange blooms fade, it’s almost time to start shopping for school supplies. 

The sturdy greens are really reminders of how fleeting and precious is time.

Drive for Education

It seemed appropriate, if only coincidental, that we kicked off weekend marked by a worldwide March for Science with college visits. pressed for time, we stuck to schools in Vermont along Route seven, including Middlebury College and The University of Vermont.
Thing1 had put Middlebury on the list, and a UVM visit is practically a requirement for Vermonters. when we started out the drive, Thing1 seemed like he knew what to expect. these were not our first visits, and even though the college bug has bitten, it’s seemed more like an inch to be scratched than a fever that’s taken hold.

The presenter at Middlebury changed all that. He told us what the college can do for students, but he also emphasized they expected of students, academically. The college wants students to prepare for careers in business or science or public service. The presenter also, stressed, however, that education was more than preparing for a career.

It is about opening a world of possibilities. 

Our tour guide crystallized that idea perfectly for Thing1. 

We saw the requisite dorms and libraries, and she pointed out a few buildings that everyone will have to re-identify on the map two years from now. Then she took us into the main science building where a symposium was taking place. The atrium of the building was filled with students presenting their findings from research projects conducted throughout the winter. There were biology and art and physics displays everywhere, and even though we could not hear the tour guide over the gentle din, the displays were fascinating enough to sell the college to every parent and prospective student.

From that point on, I could see Thing1’s eyes light up at each new building and each mention of new opportunities for discovery. 

We also asked about our tour guide’s experiences and learned that she had started her freshman year is an art history major–just the sort of “unprofitable” degree the Zeitgeist currently is trying to discourage kids from pursuing. She mentioned that a freshman internship had uncovered a previously unrecognized interest in science, and now almost 2 years later, she was majoring in neuroscience (but still studying art history and language). 

In many ways her academic journey reflects the evolving reality of work in America today. People entering the workforce today may change careers five times before they retire, if they retire at all. In that environment someone who has a background in art and history and in math and science has strong advantage, even if we view education only for its financial utility.   

We left Middlebury just before lunch and headed up to Burlington. We poked our heads in at a small school that had sent us a nice brochure, but suddenly my math-science obsessed sixteen-year-old was less interested.  

“There aren’t enough options,” he said, and we drove on towards UVM. We stopped for lunch and dessert at Ben & Jerry’s (the only place where Thing2 cared about options).

By the time lunch was done, it was too late for a formal tour of UVM, but we decided to drive around the campus just the same. Thing1 navigated. I read the school’s stats aloud as he drove, captivated by the size (10,000 people in one place is huge when your entire town only has 300 people) and the number of buildings with different academic purposes. 

“Look at all the things you could do here,” he said as we are waiting at a red light, and I knew we had crossed the Rubicon. It was clear that Thing1 understood college was more than just a tool or a prerequisite to a good job with insurance. He had come to see education as a springboard to adventure.

The Big Guy and I called the day a win for the parents, but Thing1 might contest that.