Lot's Wife

Do you remember the story of Lot's wife in the Old Testament?  Lot and his wife and daughters were sent away from the city of Sodom and Gomorrah just before it was destroyed with the words, "Run for your lives!  Do not stop anywhere in the valley.  And don't look back . . . "  Lot and his two daughters followed their instructions, but Lot's wife couldn't do it.  She couldn't help herself.  As she was following along behind Lot, she looked back.  And it cost her everything.  In the days immediately after Steve's prostate cancer diagnosis, I spent a lot of time online learning as much as I could about the disease and the treatment options; on one of the websites, I came across this bit of advice: "When you are comfortable with a decision, once you have made it, don’t look back. Remember, you made the best decision you could make. There is no room for second guessing yourself."*  In the hard couple of days that followed, I thought of those words often and even offered them to Steve when he started worrying about decisions he had made and wondering if there was something he could have done in the past that would have prevented him from getting prostate cancer.  It was the "don't look back" part that made me think of the story of Lot's wife, of course.  But in her case, the words weren't just a bit of helpful advice, they were a heavenly command.  And if Lot's wife had heeded them, she would have been protected.  So this got me thinking: maybe the same is true for each one of us--whenever we are assailed by doubts over decisions we've made as carefully as we could, or when we are threatened by temptation or fear, we will be protected if we remember to look up, not back.

*http://prostatenet.com/page/userfiles/pdf/13215907386.pdf

First Day of School

For the past forty-six years (except for the two years right after college), the end of August/beginning of September has meant going to school.  You'd think I'd be used to it by now.  I've been teaching at SUNY Fredonia for twenty-five years, yet every single year I get nervous before the first day of school.  My stomach is jumpy and I have trouble sleeping the night before.  I get to my office bright and early and scramble around getting last minute things ready for my first class.  These days my classes are filled with early childhood and childhood education majors, so, in general, they are students who like school and are fun to teach.  This makes the day fly by, and by the time I get home, I'm tired but calm.  The jitters are gone, and the excitement of a new year and new students lingers as I get ready for the second day of school.

Beginning of Day One

End of Day One

Here We Go Again

The real packing hasn't begun in earnest yet, but the pile of stuff in the piano room is starting to grow as it does every year around this time.  I'm not sure that sending a child off to college at the end of the summer is any easier now than it was seven years ago when we did it for the first time, but I guess I've finally gotten somewhat used to it.  This doesn't stop me from feeling sad each time I pass through the piano room and see textbooks and dishes and laundry detergent waiting to be loaded into the van.  It also doesn't eliminate the tension I feel between yearning to hold on and needing to let go.  And, of course, I'm well aware of how empty and quiet the house is going to feel Thursday night.  But watching my children go and come back repeatedly over the past several years has built up a kind of resilience in me that I didn't feel when this whole process started.  With our youngest child heading into her junior year, we are nearing the end of the path we started seven years ago, and I suspect I am going to need every bit of that resilience as we face the next step: life after the college years.

Waging War

We found out this week that an intruder has been quietly lurking in our midst.  Its discovery left us feeling betrayed and frightened at first, but now we're mad, fighting mad.  On the positive side, the survival rates are high for prostate cancer; plenty of men have fought this foe and won.  But as many of you know, when you discover cancer hiding in your own body or the body of someone you love, it feels big and scary, and sometimes it's hard to think rationally.  We would surely appreciate your prayers for wisdom as we explore treatment options, for strength if the fighting gets tough, and for a peace that passes understanding as we wage war against this insidious invader.

Whatever You Do, Don't Cry

Seven years ago when my first child was about to head off for his first year of college, I had already started my semester at SUNY Fredonia. I was teaching ENGL 100 that semester, so I asked my class full of freshmen for advice: What should I do or not do when I drop my son off at college? They had a number of suggestions: "Don't hang around forever," "Don't try to introduce him to all the other freshmen," and "Help him get his sheets on his bed! But their biggest piece of advice was this: "Whatever you do, don't cry." I promised to remember and even told my son what they'd said at dinner that night. We laughed about it, and I promised again to heed the advice. So when the time arrived, we loaded up the minivan and headed for campus. When we got to his dorm, a troop of friendly upperclassmen were there to help us carry his belongings up to the third floor. We helped him settle in, chatted with his roommate's parents, and headed off to the dedication service. Then, all of a sudden, it was time to leave. Ben hugged his dad and siblings goodbye, then it was my turn. As I gave him a big hug, tears sprang to my eyes. He saw them, and said, "Mom, remember what your students said." I nodded and tried to smile, but I couldn't stop the tears from trickling down my cheeks. I felt just as I did on the first day of kindergarten when I had to walk away and leave my precious child alone in a new place. Sure, he was much older now and more than ready for college, but this was a big new place, and he wouldn't be coming home to me at 3:00. In fact, he wouldn't be home until October break. But it was time. So with one more round of hugs and goodbyes, we climbed into the van and left our boy standing in front of his dorm ready to start his new life. This week I have two first-born nephews and a last-born niece heading off for college, so they and their parents are in my thoughts as I write. To my siblings and their spouses I'll offer the same advice my freshmen gave me, "Whatever you do, don't cry." And to Drew, Anthony, and Mackenzie, three things: 1) Forgive your parents when they cry anyway, 2) Don't forget to call and text from time to time, and 3) Have a great year and remember how very much you are loved!

Back-to-School Supply Shopping

It starts innocently enough--your child gets a cheery letter from his kindergarten teacher with a list of things he'll need for the school year: a nap mat, some crayons, a couple of pencils, a pair of safety scissors, and maybe a box of Kleenex to contribute to the classroom community.  Add a lunchbox and a backpack, and you're done with back-to-school supply shopping--no sweat. But each year the list of supplies your child needs gets longer; soon you're buying colored pencils, markers, highlighters, erasers, composition notebooks, index cards, Post-it notes, notebook paper, folders, and three-ring binders.  Plus, if you have more than one child in school, you're juggling multiple lists, tastes, and preferences, and back-to-school shopping is starting to feel a little bit stressful.  By the time your kids get to high school and they still need all of the above plus graphing calculators, the stress and expense mount.  But all of that is nothing compared to when they leave for college, and in addition to all the usual school supplies, you're searching online for cheaper-than-bookstore-priced textbooks, as well as all the things they need for their dorm rooms: wastebaskets, lamps, mini fridges, fans, under-the-bed storage boxes, closet organizers, laundry bags, shower caddies, extra-long twin bed sheets, laptop computers, printers, surge protectors, and ethernet cables.  Then a couple of years later when they move to a townhouse or an off-campus apartment, they need pots and pans, mixing bowls, dishes, vacuum cleaners, extra furniture, cleaning supplies, and shower curtains.  You think back to your first child's kindergarten supply list and realize the only thing worse than all the back-to-school supply shopping is going to be the first year you don't have to do it anymore . . . .

Bandanas for Ben

When my son Ben was little, he drooled . . . a lot.  At first, I snapped little terry cloth bibs around his neck to help protect his outfits, but he outgrew the bibs before he stopped drooling, and his little shirts and the bibs of his overalls were always soaking wet.  So one day, on a whim, I tied a navy blue bandana around his neck to catch the drool.
 

 He didn't mind wearing it, and it was easier to change the bandana than the shirt, so for the next two and a half years, he almost always had a bandana tied around his neck.  We collected bandanas in all the colors we could find, and I usually tried to match the bandana to his outfit.

Sometime around Ben's third birthday, he gradually stopped needing the bandanas.  Our second son used them for a little while during his first year, and our daughter didn't use them at all.  So when kindergarten rolled around for Ben, I used some of the bandanas to make his kindergarten nap mat. Long after kindergarten, Ben and the rest of us used his bandana blanket to wrap up in on cold days.  It's now stained and thin in spots, but I can't imagine getting rid of it or of the rest of the bandanas that are stacked neatly in the corner of my top dresser drawer.

Inn at the Peak

Peek'n Peak is best known for its ski slopes, but oddly, I've never been there in the winter.  In fact I've only ever been there in mid-August.  Thirty years ago Steve and I spent our wedding night at the Inn.  Twenty years ago, on our tenth anniversary, we stayed at there with newborn Emily (the boys spent the night with Grandma and Grandpa).  And this week, we returned to the Inn at the Peak to celebrate thirty years of marriage.  Much of it looked the way we remembered it: the lobby and dining room with their grand chandeliers, the great stone fireplaces, the  shadowy indoor pool, and the grassy hills and motionless chair lifts waiting patiently for snow.  We felt the same, too: excited, hopeful, happy to be someplace special and beautiful together with no worries and nothing to do but relax and enjoy ourselves.  Of course, the inn has changed some over the years, too.  There are computers in the lobby, wi-fi in the rooms, a sunny coffee shop that sells cappuccinos and lattes, and a very fun water slide in the outdoor pool.  Yet, at the same time, it's showing its age in places: the carpets are thin in spots, the staircase to the pool area sags and slopes more than it used to, and the tennis courts are shabby and worn.  Steve and I have changed some over the years, too: we're more sure of each other, more comfortable together; we have wonderful grown-up kids now, two of whom joined us the second night and made us laugh and treated us to dinner; and we have real jobs, a house, and health insurance.  But we also have creaky knees that ache after two sets of tennis; bodies that sag a little more in places; and neither of us can order off a menu without reading glasses.  In the end, though, the Inn at the Peak was all we'd hoped it would be and more; and when I look back over the past thirty years, I would say the same is true about our life together.  Here's to decade #4 and another visit to Peek'n Peak!

It's Your Story, Pass It On

My mom will be eighty in September, and my mother-in-law recently turned ninety.  We don't see either one of them nearly as often as we used to, but this summer we've had visits with both of them.  During each visit, I noticed something: our moms were eager to tell stories from the past to their children and grandchildren.  They are both getting a bit forgetful about the bits and pieces of daily life, but their memories of long ago seem crisp and clear.  Last night after dinner, Steve's mom told the group of children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren gathered around the table all about having her first child alone while Steve's dad was in the navy during World War II and didn't even know his son had been born.  When my mom was here, she told story after story about her favorite teacher (Mrs. Oliver) and things her parents used to say ("If I had a rope around his neck, if I wouldn't yank it!").  Listening to them talk got me thinking about how important it is for all of us to tell our stories to the people we love, especially our kids; we want them to know who we are, where we came from, and what mattered to us.  So tell your kids the things your parents used to say and do; write down memories from your childhood; and when you look at old photo albums with people, fill in the details behind the pictures.   Your stories matter--pass them on.

Facing Forward

I've been spending a good bit of time looking back over my shoulder during the last week or so.  The first thing that happened was that the calendar turned from July to August, and I had to face the fact that my daughter's summer at home was winding down, so I was looking back to the recent past when we still had the whole summer  stretching out ahead of us.   The next thing was that I noticed that a couple of our old photo albums were falling apart.  The new albums I ordered arrived this week, so I've  been transferring the old pictures to the new albums.  Our oldest child was just six months old at the beginning of the first tattered album.  So I was looking farther back to when we still had our whole parenting adventure ahead of us.  The final thing hasn't actually happened yet, but next week my husband and I will be celebrating our thirtieth wedding anniversary, so I've been looking back to the summer of 1982 when we still had our whole marriage ahead of us.  All this looking back has made me nostalgic for those sweet beginnings.  I don't think there's anything wrong with glancing back into the past from time to time, but you've got to be careful.  If you get into a habit of constantly looking back over your shoulder, you miss all the things that are happening right in front of you--things like having grown-up kids who are now your friends, not just your children; and having a husband you know much better now than you did thirty years ago; and even saying good-bye to your sweet college-age daughter at the end of the summer because even though you're going to miss her, you're just as excited for each new chapter of her life as she is.  So in the days to come, I may peek over my shoulder occasionally, but for the most part, I'm going to do my best to face forward and keep my eyes wide open--I don't want to miss a thing!

We Love Lucy

My son Ben's fascination with classic TV reaches way to his childhood.  One of the happiest days of his young life was when we finally got cable TV, and he could watch Nick at Night.  He gobbled up  biographies, autobiographies, and other TV books by and about sitcom legends like Dick Van Dyke, Mary Tyler Moore, Bob Newhart, and especially Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz.  Every Christmas and birthday included requests for VHS tapes or DVDs of classic sitcom episodes and seasons.  I think it all started with I Love Lucy.  He and I used to watch the show together occasionally when he was quite young, and he's been a big Lucy fan ever since.  He knows all about Desi's use of the three-camera technique in filming I Love Lucy, which made the rerun possible.  He knows the details of Lucy and Desi's stormy relationship, as well as all kinds of trivia about the Ricardos and Mertzes--in fact, if you give him an episode number he can tell you the title of the I Love Lucy episode.  When it was a lot more expensive than it is now, he bought the entire I Love Lucy series on DVD.  We all watch Ben's Lucy DVDs, and every time there's an I Love Lucy marathon on TV, we tune in.  We have favorite lines and episodes that we never tire of hearing and seeing.  My daughter Em is almost as big a Lucy fan as Ben is, so Saturday night, at her suggestion, we drove to Jamestown for the Lucy Fest.  The museum was closed when we got there, but we had fun walking around town listening to "Cuban Pete" and other signature Desi Arnaz/Ricky Ricardo songs being broadcast on loudspeakers and watching two I Love Lucy episodes being shown under the stars with other Lucy fans.  Happy 101st birthday, Lucy--thanks for all the laughter and good memories!

Ben's Room

Before

During

After

My oldest son's first apartment was tiny, so when he moved out last summer, his old room stayed much the same as it was all through his college years.  When he moved into his new, much larger place in May, he was still teaching and taking grad classes, so he didn't get around to moving all of the non-essential items out of his old room until last night.  Now, I know it was gradual, and I know I should be glad to have the extra space, but it's still not easy walking past that empty room today.  The previous owners used this little room as an indoor greenhouse.  In our early years here, it was the kids' playroom.  I'm not sure what it will be next.  Just a guest room?  A little office?  A playroom again when there are grandchildren?  Whatever else it becomes, it will always have its door open for Ben to spend the night any time he wants to.