Kids

There are 19 posts filed in Kids (this is page 2 of 2).

My First Book

Blogathon status: 8 sponsors for $151. Come on, folks: sponsor me! Even $4 or $5 makes a difference.

Lee wonders:

What’s the first book you remember reading?

That’s a difficult question to answer. As long as I can remember, books have been a part of my life. Mom and Dad did a wonderful job of making me a reader. As I look at the kids I know now, I’m ecstatic to see that in almost every instance, their parents are fostering a love of books. (Jenn and Jeremy have been especially great: Hank and Scout fairly breathe books.) But the kids I know are universally well-off. Rich, even. They can afford books, and their parents believe in the value of reading. Not every child has this advantage.

But what was the first book I remember reading? I don’t know.

I remember having Small Pig read to me at a young age. Also Millions of Cats and Dr. Seuess’ Sleep Book.

A moose is asleep. He is dreaming of moose drinks.
A goose is asleep. He is dreaming of goose drinks.
That’s well and good when a moose dreams of moose juice.
And nothing goes wrong when a goose dreams of goose juice.
But it isn’t too good when a moose and a goose
Start dreaming they’re drinking the other one’s juice.
Moose juice, not goose juice, is juice for a moose.
And goose juice, not moose juice, is juice for a goose.
So, when goose gets a mouthful of juices of mooses
And moose gets a mouthful of juices of gooses
They always fall out of their beds screaming screams
So, I’m warning you, now! Never drink in your dreams.

I have strong memories of each, including memories of going to the public library for Small Pig.

I can remember learning to read in first grade using the Star Reader books: The Wee Light, We Feed a Deer, etc.

I can’t remember which book I first picked up on my own, though. It was probably something in my grandmother’s parlor, something like The Bobbsey Twins or the Hardy Boys in The Tower Treasure.

Getting kids to read is vital. It lays the groundwork for lifelong learning. Because of this, I’m raising money for FirstBook this month. On July 29th, I’ll be blogging for 24-hours straight at Get Rich Slowly. Your sponsorship helps, even if you just give a buck. Please take the time to pledge your support.

Lately I’ve begun to read “success” books: self-help and motivational tomes and biographies of famous people. A common thread among these is: successful people read — a lot. I’m thankful to my parents for having made me a reader. Now I have a chance to foster reading in others.

Look! It’s one of those rare days on which I’ve made a weblog entry every year since I started:

A Rock, An Island

I had a conversation with Harrison tonight that broke my heart.

He elected to ride with me as we drove to dinner. I asked him about school. We chatted about classes and reading, and then I asked him about his friends. He explained to me that the other kids wouldn’t let him play with them: the boys didn’t want him in their groups, and neither did the girls. It was obviously something that makes him sad. It made me sad. (And I’m not even his parent!)

We tried to talk about what it’s like to not belong, but the concepts I wanted to share were too abstract for me to express to a seven-year-old, and the ideas he wanted to convey came out in first-grade-speak, a language with which I have difficulty.

We talked about his reading group instead. Harrison loves to read, but he doesn’t really like his reading group because the other members are all girls.

“Girls are okay,” I told him.

“I know,” he said, “but they always talk about girlie things, and they don’t like me to talk with them.” He paused. “Besides, we mostly just talk about reading.”

I didn’t know what to say. I tried to tell him to be patient, to be nice to kids so that they might be nice to him, but even as I said it I knew it was dumb advice. Worthless. Impractical. I asked if he gets to play with any of his church friends. Some play with him, some don’t. Harrison is a sensitive boy, and I can tell all of this is weighing heavy on his mind.

And here’s the thing, here’s the reason this makes me so sad: I was Harrison. I was that kid. I can remember experiencing the same fear, the same sense of not belonging, even in first grade. (Especially in first grade.) I found refuge in books and comics. Eventually I met other kids who seemed to feel the same way I did, but it took a while, and in the meantime I felt alone. I tried hard — too hard — to make friends, to get other kids to like me. Eventually I just gave up. Is this something that every kid feels? I don’t know. It never seemed that way to me; it always seemed the other kids had lots of friends.

As I’d hoped, Hank’s parents seem to be aware of the situation. At dinner, Jeremy asked him about school, about his friends. “How’s that new kid, Joey?” Jeremy said. “Is he still your bud?”

“Yeah,” said Harrison. “He saved me from Brandon the other day.” He launched into a long and detailed (but very bewildering because it was in first-grade-speak) description, replete with wild gesticulations, of how Brandon had been chasing him, but Joey had stepped in to save the day.

Ah, Harrison, how much you remind me of me. Hang in there, my little friend.

(Also at dinner, Harrison — eavesdropping — asked, “What’s divorce?” “I’ll explain it later,” said Jeremy. “Explain it now,” said Harrison, and so Jeremy tried. “It’s when two people decide that they don’t want to be married anymore. It’s very sad.” Harrison nodded: “It does sound sad.”)

The Book of Books

This book is by Harrison, Emma, and J.D.

Chapter One
Emma and Harrison. They made cookies. Cookies. And they made more and more cookies. And more and more. And more and more. And they played Play-Do. And they made gingerbread men out of paper at my preschool! And they vote for beavers. Beavers. Beavers. Beavers! We hate ducks. We like to make cookies. We like to make gingerbread houses. And we like making fun of ducks. And we like making fun of J.D. [Kris: Everyone likes that.] And mommy got mad at Harrison for smacking the toy at the window that I really didn’t do. I didn’t do anything.

Uh. What? The end. The end of a different story, silly! (There’s a hundred stories in this silly book.)

Chapter Two
There was a frog on J.D.’s shoulder. It kept croaking and annoying him while he was listening to J.D.’s famous music. And then J.D. said, “I won’t sing, I won’t sing, I won’t sing until you get off of my shoulder now!” Boing boing boing. The frog boinged out the door and he bounced off J.D.’s hat that was on the hook. And J.D. said, “You! You’re all wet, you! You get off of my hat.”

“NOW!” J.D. demanded.

And Scout said, “Please don’t demand at that frog. He was our friend.”

And the frog said, “Ribbit ribbit ribbit” at J.D. and punched him on the head with one of his legs.

And J.D. said, “Ribbit”.

The end.

Chapter Three
The gingerbread house bonked away. Clara was in the gingerbread house. Clara saw the Lorax. Now the Christmas tree rose up and bonked away, too. Clara got scared. She banged the house down, and the gingerbread fell on her, and she just ate and ate and ate until she was just as full as she can get. Then Clara told her mom about her journey. The end.

Chapter Four
And Darth Vader scared the lambs. Darth Vader had a red light saber and zapped the lambs’ bottoms. He ripped their bottoms off. The goats whapped Darth Vader on the head until his helmet knocked off. And then they knocked his suit off until he was Anakin again. Then he changed to the good side. And then the goats said “baaah” and went back to their grazing. The end.

Chapter Five
The hippo turned around. His name was Hippododups. Then Emma said “I want to play with Hippododups” and the hippo kicked her out of orbit. Then she flew into space. She had a beautiful sight, but she couldn’t breathe. Then when Emma landed, she choked J.D. The end.

Chapter Six
Once upon a time there was a bowl of cookies. And the bowl got baked. And the bowl melted in the oven. Emma and J.D. and Harrison and mommy and Kris had a fight with the bowl. They threw the bowl at each other. The end.

Chapter Seven
Once there was J.D., Emma, and Harrison. They were all fooling around. And everyone knocked their heads off. And one day they they all grew back, so they threw plates at each other. Then they had a fight with ice, but none of them got hurt with that one. [Harrison: You’re typing like crazy. J.D.: That’s because you’re talking like crazy.] Then they had a fight with hats. None of them got hurt with that one except the little tips on the inside that have metal on them. That hurt a little bit. The end.

Chapter Eight
One time the world was very very young. The end.

Chapter Nine
The end of this book is chapter ten. We’re not at chapter ten yet, but we are at chapter nine. The end.

Chapter Ten
The end of this book written by Harrison and Emma and J.D. The end of this book narrated by J.D., no-one, and no-one.

Bumper Bowling

I’m sitting at my desk, composing this weblog entry. I’m listening to Neutral Milk Hotel and munching on hickory smoke flavored soy nuts. As I’m mousing around, I bump into a soy bean I must have dropped and, without looking, I snatch it up and pop it in my mouth.

Crunch crunch crunch.

“Hm,” I think. “That doesn’t taste very much like hickory smoke. It tastes rather like grass. In fact, it tastes gross.” And so I spit it out into my hand only to see that I have not been gnashing a stray soy bean but a stray lady bug.

Gross!

We’ve spent the last year trying to schedule a night to take Jeremy and Jennifer out to dinner, a dinner we owe them for favors rendered when we moved into this house. At last we picked out a date — October 28th — only to have Kris sabotage an evening of adults-only gluttony by suggesting we take the kids bowling. I’m glad she did.

We ate burgers and shakes and onion rings at Mike’s Drive-In before heading to Kellogg Bowl in Milwaukie.

I was wary of the place at first. I’m always wary of bowling alleys. In my mind, they’re smoky and seedy and filled with Big Lebowski type losers. It turns out Kellogg Bowl’s a nice place to take the family for a bit of fun. It also turns out that we ought to have had pizza before bowling. There’s a Pietro’s Pizza next door, of which both Jeremy and I have fond memories. Better yet, there’s a direct hotline from the bowling alley to the pizza parlor. You can pick up the hotline, place an order, and Pietro’s will deliver pizza to your lane. That is frickin’ awesome!

As we were waiting for the bumper lanes to open, the owner spied my camera. “Look at this,” he said, motioning me to follow him. He showed me his two digital cameras. “What kind do you have?” he said, so I showed him. “Wow,” he said. “I want something like that someday. Say, come with me.” He led me back to his office, where he showed me his little HP photo printer.

When Jenn came up to get shoes for the kids, the owner asked her about the digital camera she was carrying. She took a couple of photos, and the fellow darted back to his office with her memory card in order to make a couple of prints.

Here’s a little secret: I enjoy bowling. If it ever occurred to me, I might do it on a regular basis. I’m certainly never going to turn down an opportunity to bowl a couple of games. (When I sold insurance in eastern Oregon, I’d often go bowling in the evenings to kill time.) I haven’t been in a couple years. The last time was with Joel and Aimee and Mac and Pam. I thought I had an obsessive weblog entry about that night, complete with scores, but I can’t find it. (This entry has a comment from Joel about that night.)

This was the first time that Harrison and Emma had been bowling. Emma chose a pink ball, of course. Harrison started with an eight-pound ball, but had more success when a woman who worked at the alley brought him a six-pound ball. Many of Emma’s balls c-r-e-p-t down the alley, with barely enough force to topple a single pin when they reached their destination. Harrison did well. He even bowled a strike!

In the non-bumper lane, Kris, Jeremy, and I put up a poor showing. At the end of seven frames, my score stood at a woeful 65. I wasn’t even on pace to break 100. I went in search of a better ball, and I found one. It was pound heavier, the holes were better spaced, and my thumb didn’t stick upon release. I bowled three consecutive strikes. In my last three frames, I scored 76! My final score was 141, which is about average for me.

As we left the bowling alley, Jenn asked Harrison how he liked bowling. “I love it,” he said. “It’s really great.”

We’ll have to go back, but next time Jeremy and I are using the pizza hotline.

My Little Pony

My campaign to corrupt the innocents continues apace.

Several months ago, somebody was asking Harrison about me. I forget what question was asked, but I remember his response: “I believe most of the words that he says.” And that pretty much sums up our relationship. Mostly I’m a good influence on the boy, but occasionally I’m a rascal, and he knows it.

I was talking with Jenn recently. “You know how we have those superhero popsicles?” she said. The kids are really into these popsicles packaged in Marvel superhero wrappers: Spiderman, Hulk, Captain America. “Well, Harrison asked me today whether Spiderman is a part of Justice League.”

“What did you tell him?” I asked.

“I told him he wasn’t, but I wasn’t really sure.”

“You’re right,” I said, proud that even Jenn is beginning to absorb superhero knowledge.

“You know, you could just have Hank call me with any of his superhero questions,” I added. “I’d be happy to answer them.”

Jenn sighed.

After several days of preparation, our house is officially on the market. We had three families tour it yesterday. The last family could only make it at 8 p.m., so we called Jenn and invited ourselves over for dinner.

When we arrived, Emma was playing with horses. Multi-colored horses. With manes as long as Barbie’s hair.

“Emma,” I said. “Barbie is one thing, but now you’re sinking even lower.”

“Play with me, J.D.,” she said.

I sighed. “You know what, Scout? I’m not a big fan of horses and ponies. I don’t really want to play with them. Maybe later. Or maybe Kris will play with you.” I went outside to help Jeremy grill the steaks.

After dinner, Emma sat me down to show me more about her My Little Pony collection. (MLP FAQ, funny porn star or my little pony quiz)

“Ugh,” I said after examining all the ponies. “I’d rather clean dishes.” So, I got up and went to help in the kitchen.

Emma followed me. “J.D., come play with the ponies,” she said.

“Emma, how do I feel about the ponies?” I asked.

“You like them,” she said.

And at this point, Jenn chimed in, the voice of reason: “Oh J.D. — step out of your comfort zone and go play with the ponies.”

What I did instead was go to the den to write down this conversation for today’s weblog entry.

“Come see the ponies’ castle,” Emma told me.

I went to see the ponies’ castle. It was a molded piece of pink plastic (actually several molded pieces of pink plastic) with mirrors and steps and frilly things all around.

“Look,” said Harrison. He likes playing with the My Little Pony collection, too. “When the ponies step on the castle, music plays.” And lights flash.

“That’s not a castle,” I said. “It’s a barn.”

“No,” said Emma. “It’s a castle.”

“It’s a barn,” I said. “Have you ever heard of a horse who lived a castle? Horses live in barns. That’s a pink barn.”

The kids argued with me about this for several minutes. Finally I agreed that maybe it could be a castle if the king or queen of the horses lived there.

“Ponies don’t have kings or queens,” said Harrison. And who was I to argue?

For dessert, the kids had superhero popsicles again. Emma chose a Captain America popsicle (red, white, and blue). Harrison chose a Hulk popsicle (green, purple, and grey (well, black)).

Hank I goofed around while he ate his popsicle. Because he couldn’t defend himself — he had to use both hands to eat — I covered his eyes and made him walk ahead of me, blind.

“Which superhero is blind?” I asked.

“I can’t remember,” he said.

“Daredevil. Daredevil is blind.”

“Oh yeah,” he said. “That’s what I thought.” Hank considered this for a few moments. “What are Daredevil’s powers?” he asked.

“Well, he can’t see, right? So all of his other senses are extra-powerful. He can hear things, even quiet things. He can smell things. He’s got super-sensitive touch. Plus he has a sort of radar, like a bat.”

“Oh,” said Harrison. Then he said, “Does he climb walls? Like Spiderman?”

“Not really,” I said. “No. You know how spiders and flies can climb on walls? That’s how Spiderman does it. He can climb a wall just like a spider. Daredevil isn’t like a spider. He’s very strong, and could climb a building if there were things to hold onto, though.”

Harrison thought about this as he finished his popsicle. “Well, maybe he could grab onto the walls with his hands” — and here he formed his hands into claws of strength — “he could grab onto the wall and crush it when he grabs it. He could even smash buildings!”

“The Hulk climbs walls like that,” I said. “But not Daredevil. Daredevil isn’t that strong.”

He thought some more. “Well, maybe he could have magnets in his hands and use them to climb the walls.”

“That’s a good idea,” I said. “He doesn’t do that, though. I don’t know of any superhero with magnets in his hands. Maybe you can make your own superhero.”

After the kids had gone to bed, we stayed to watch Love Actually. We just saw the film two weeks ago, and though it’s fluffy pap, it’s high-quality fluffy pap. Kris and I both like it, and were willing to rewatch it. I liked it just as much as I had the first time.

During the movie, our realtor called to let us know the eight o’clock family really liked the house. “They’ll be faxing over an offer tonight,” she said. Wow! That was quick! We still don’t know the details of the offer, but we’re meeting Mary at one today. We have until three to make our decision.

Comments

On 21 May 2004 (08:33 AM),
Joel said:

Not to bring politics into EVERYTHING, or anything, but wasn’t Hugh Grant’s character in “Love Actually” a wonderful liberal fantasy? Complete with Monica-esque girlfriend?
Also, I’ve spent some time in Milwaukee. Either I was going to the wrong bars, or there was some serious Oscar-worthy movie magic going on there.

On 21 May 2004 (09:29 AM),
tammy said:

JD,I can’t believe you find fault with My Littel Pony! I’m crushed! Anna Lise loves the things. She wanted the castle for Christmas and I didn’t get it fo rher. Now I regeret it.

And you know what? Superheroes most certainly do have magnets in their hands. Spidermand does!It helps him get up and down poles. I bought a spiderman for Wally the other day and his hands were magnetic so he could slide down the magnetic pole that came with it. His hands and feet both clasp the pole by use of magnets! Now you go apologize to that little boy! And next time believe the kid when he tells you something! Out of the mouth of babes,ya know!

On 21 May 2004 (10:02 AM),
Dana said:

Heck, back in the 70’s you could get Meego Batman and Robin dolls that had magnets in their hands and feet so they could climb up slides and swingsets and whatnot.

And then, of course, there’s Magneto…

On 21 May 2004 (10:56 AM),
Denise said:

Another set of toys I never liked was Strawberry Shortcake dolls. Blech!

On 21 May 2004 (10:57 AM),
Denise said:

Ack! Bad grammar – sorry – should be were. My apologies!

On 21 May 2004 (11:08 AM),
mac said:

is Magneto a “super hero”?

On 21 May 2004 (11:10 AM),
Emma Jordan said:

I once wanted to become an atheist, but I gave up – they have no holidays.
-Henny Youngman, comedian, actor (1906-1998)

On 21 May 2004 (11:32 AM),
Joel said:

Ouch, I scored 5 out of 12 on the “My Little Pony or Porn Star?” quiz. Are the ponies really scented?

On 21 May 2004 (11:36 AM),
Aimee said:

Yes, dearest … I had one that smelled like cotton candy. Her name was … well, Cotton Candy.

On 21 May 2004 (11:40 AM),
J.D. said:

Aimee: Her name was … well, Cotton Candy.

Sounds like a porn star name to me…

On 21 May 2004 (11:45 AM),
J.D. said:

And Joel, I only got two out of twelve on the porn star vs. pony quiz… :(

On 21 May 2004 (11:48 AM),
Tiffany said:

Does that mean you need to watch more porn or play with toys more?

On 21 May 2004 (01:53 PM),
Joel said:

I should think the answer to that question goes without saying.

On 21 May 2004 (02:20 PM),
Johnny said:

Is there a difference?

On 21 May 2004 (02:37 PM),
Denise said:

Yeehaw! (I can say that – I grew up in Canby.) Congrats on selling your house. When you guys decide to do something, you don’t mess around, do you?

Glad that everything is going so smoothly, hope it continues to do so!

On 21 May 2004 (02:50 PM),
Tiffany said:

I already miss your house.

On 21 May 2004 (03:47 PM),
Joel said:

Eh? It’s 3:47, does this mean you’ve accepted the offer?

On 21 May 2004 (04:06 PM),
Mom (Sue) said:

That sounds pretty definite — congrats, J.D. and Kris! I’m glad your house sold so fast! It’s in a great location and a nice house, so I shouldn’t be surprised.

Thanks in part to you (and also one TV commercial), I signed up for Netflix about a week ago and have so far watched The Age of Innocence and Girl with a Pearl Earring, both of which I had read in the last few months. Love Actually is in my queue and I just added Fog of War due to your recommendation a day or two ago and also the fact that it receives high marks on the Oregonian A & E section’s video/DVD ratings chart. I have Lost in Translation and Calendar Girls here right now to watch. I think I will most likely watch Calendar Girls tonight and Lost in Translation this weekend. I have quite a few films yet in queue and I didn’t even browse seriously yet. -G-

On 21 May 2004 (04:07 PM),
Kris said:

We’ve accepted the offer, but of course it is contingent on the house inspection results and financing for the buyer. So, we should feel a bit more sure about the whole transaction going through by next weekend. We’ll keep you posted.

On 21 May 2004 (07:23 PM),
Lisa said:

Speaking of the Monica-esque character in Love Actually, I found it annoying that she was described as “chubby.” She was a perfectly normal looking woman. Good grief!

On 21 May 2004 (08:46 PM),
adam luckey said:

Ok…so no super heros with magnets in hands…but Magnito does have magnetic capabilities.

On 21 May 2004 (09:53 PM),
Lynn said:

Thank you, Lisa! I was terribly annoyed at the constant chubby remarks because she looked great. Oh to be that chubby!

Kind of Blue

I was feeling kind of blue last night. The day hadn’t gone quite right. Things were messy at the office; I hadn’t started the short story that is due tonight; and I felt old and fat. I was feeling kind of blue.

Remember that I ended the Sunriver trip feeling like an ass. This feeling lingered even into Tuesday morning as I set about sorting the quotes and orders left over from the previous two days. Custom Box is surpisingly busy right now. In general, our business declines after April 15th. It also declines after a price increase. Since both of these events just occurred, we’d expect to be compeletely dead. But we’re not. We’re busy.

I had a moderate lunch, in keeping with my diet, but then I broke down and had a Hershey bar with almonds. And another one. That’s 460 useless calories and many grams of fat. I began to beat myself up mentally. I’d already spent the last three days consuming more calories than normal (though that was by design). I felt fat. I felt defeated. I felt thrown from my diet.

Rather than triumph over these bad feelings, I stopped by Safeway on the way home. I bought Safeway Chinese food for dinner. Then, when I’d finished my rice and sesame beef, I had some left-over cake and ice cream. I felt emotionally and physically defeated.

To make matters worse, I’d been unable to start my latest short story assignment. I’ve got a clear plot in my head, but at this point it’s blatant plagiarism (stealing a poignant bit from Craig Thompson’s Good-Bye, Chunky Rice). I want to make it my own, adapt it into something new, but the words just weren’t coming.

I lay on the couch and moped.

The phone rang. Jenn was calling to invite us over to dinner. Emotionally, I didn’t much feel like going, but intellectually I knew that it was a good idea.

And you know what?

When we walked onto the porch and I saw Emma’s big smiling face, everything was better just like that. Harrison appeared at her side. “You know what, J.D.?” he said. “I saw you from far away, but I didn’t see Kris. She was way behind you.”

We sat on the floor and we played.

“Harrison, who’s your favorite superhero?” I asked.

He pulled out his astronomy book — which features members of the Justice League of America on every page — and he pointed out his favorite. “I like the Blue Superman,” he said (referring to a plotline in which Superman splits into Red Superman and Blue Superman). “And Plastic Man,” he added, finding the stretchy guy on another page. (I know from past conversations that Hank also likes J’onn J’onnz, the Martian Manhunter.)

Without warning, Harrison jumped on my back. Ouch. “Harrison’s a wild boy,” said Emma.

“Are you a wild girl?” asked Kris.

“No,” said Emma. “I’m a wild woman.” Then she thought about it a little more. “No. I’m a princess.”

I read Emma a story about the pyramids in Egypt while Harrison lay on my back, his chin resting on my head.

“Harrison,” I said, when we were finished with the story, “Bring me the Great Big Book of Absolutely Everything.” He brought me his National Geographic photographic atlas. We looked up Egypt. I pointed out the actual pyramids, tried to explain their scale. We looked at photos of boys riding donkeys, of a woman carrying an urn on her head.

Harrison tried to explain to me that Oregon is bigger than Egypt. “Go get your globe,” Jenn told him. When he found his globe, we tore a piece of paper so that it was the same size as Oregon. When we placed Oregon over Egypt, it was clear that Egypt was larger. Still Harrison didn’t believe.

“Egypt’s about the same size as Oregon and Washington together,” I said.

“I don’t think so,” said Harrison. “Oregon is big.”

He went upstairs to fetch a larger map. “See?” he said. And, indeed, on this map Oregon was bigger than the Egypt on the globe. Hmmm. How to explain scale?

“Every place looks big when you live there, Hank,” I said. “You look out in every direction and everything seems so big.”

“I know what,” said Harrison. “When God looks down from the universe, he sees the whole thing” — meaning the Earth — “at once.”

Kris, of course, tried to secularize the conversation, but without success. “Well,” she said, “Anyone looking down from space — like an astronaut — could see the whole Earth at once.”

“But God is even above the astronauts,” said Harrison, “Because he’s in the universe.”

We left it at that.

Instead we compared the sizes of the states, and talked about the different places Harrison has been. “You remember Joel and Aimee?” I asked. “They’re moving here,” I said, and I pointed to South Dakota and Mt. Rushmore. “That’s a long way away.”

Harrison played with the globe. “Why are the North Pole and the South Pole so far apart?” he asked. And we couldn’t really explain. I mean, they’re far apart by definition, not for any other reason.

I started the night feeling kind of blue, but I finished it feeling rosy. All because of interaction with a couple of kids.

Comments


On 28 April 2004 (07:33 AM),
Joel said:

JD said:

“They’re moving here,” I said, and I pointed to South Dakota and Mt. Rushmore. “That’s a long way away.”

1680 miles away, in fact. Which is not so far if you’re God. Or an astronaut. Alas, we are but people.



On 28 April 2004 (09:12 AM),
tammy said:

Jd, I came to your weblog straight from the family sight. As I was reading over there how Jeff played with Noah last night I thought to myself,” JD needs kids. If JD, could just have one kid he’d wonder how he ever lived without them.” Then I read your entry! Now I’m convinced JD needs kids!

And did I read this right? You polished off all that Chinese food and still had dinner at Jenns place? Oh well,”tomorrow is another day.”



On 28 April 2004 (09:13 AM),
tammy said:

Oh and may I ask what takes Joel and Aimee to South Dakota?



On 28 April 2004 (09:17 AM),
J.D. said:

And did I read this right? You polished off all that Chinese food and still had dinner at Jenns place?

No, you did not read this right, though I can see how you might have been confused. I ate a grand total of one corn chip at Jenn’s place.

Oh and may I ask what takes Joel and Aimee to South Dakota?

You may ask…



On 28 April 2004 (09:43 AM),
Denise said:

Hey J.D. – everyone has days where they do not follow their diet. Mine are usually Tuesday through Sunday. ;)

But really, one day, or weekend is nothing to beat yourself up over. If you are able to start fresh on the next day, it won’t really hurt anything. If you don’t allow yourself something ‘bad’ to eat occasionally, you will binge eat (somewhat like you did on Tuesday). When I am seriously watching my food intake, I usually let myself have something ‘bad’ every other day…or give myself a ‘bad breakfast’ of Fridays – poppy seed muffins seem to be my evil breakfast of choice. That way, I can stay on track knowing that Friday morning I get to have the evil and sugary muffin.

If you started eating two large pizzas every night, then I would worry.

AND – Joel, it would also be a short distance between Oregon and South Dakota if you were the Bionic Man.



On 28 April 2004 (09:46 AM),
Lynn said:

We went to Disneyland in 2001 and I shared a bed with my then 10-year-old niece. She is a bed hog and I attempted to set some ground rules before we went to sleep. “Shelby,” I said. “See this line?” I drew an imaginary line down the middle of the bed with my finger. “This is the equator. Do not cross it.”
She rolled her eyes and used her best teenage tone when she replied, “Helllllo, the equator runs this way,” she said while drawing a horizontal line accross the bed. “This,” as she redrew the imaginary vertical line as I had done, “is the prime meridian.” And then she huffed a little pre-teen huff and rolled over to sleep. Damn those 4th graders and their map classes.



On 28 April 2004 (12:02 PM),
Jeff said:

Tammy said: I was reading over there how Jeff played with Noah last night

And here is a link to Noah’s site:

Pictures of Noah

Hey! What’s going on? The link doesn’t work! I wonder why that is!?!?!?



On 28 April 2004 (12:37 PM),
Dana said:

“Why are the North Pole and the South Pole so far apart?” he asked…they’re far apart by definition, not for any other reason.

Well, sort of.

They’re far apart because the earth is a (mostly) rigid sphere, and it’s axis of rotation has to be a straight line passing through the center of mass or else the rotation won’t be stable — either you’re going to be compressing and expanding bits of the surface (kind of like a partially scrunched up nerf ball) during rotation, and that takes energy being put into the system from somewhere, or you’re going to be rotating in such a way that the resulting angular momentum will throw the earth out of orbit without external energy being stuffed in to keep us in place.

Or something like that.

Joel, it would also be a short distance between Oregon and South Dakota if you were the Bionic Man.

Or Superman Blue…



On 28 April 2004 (12:58 PM),
Tiffany said:

Joel and Aimee,
I know I only see you once a year, but I will miss you on my future visits to the giant state of Oregon.

Jd,
Your change in diet (eating extra over the weekend) may have something to do with your feeling blue. Any change is food intake can affect your hormone levels



On 28 April 2004 (02:31 PM),
Joel said:

Thanks for your words, Tiffany (and for filling me in on the long-term dangers posed by depleted-uranium shells), and your curiosity, Tammy.
We’re actually moving to South Dakota for school. I’m attending the University of S.D.’s medical school, and Aimee’s planning on going to nursing school.
We’re very sorry to leave the fantastic community of friends we’ve made here, but just because we’re leaving Oregon doesn’t take us out of foldedspaceland! Look for a brand-new weblog from Joel and Aimee to appear sometime in the next month or two! We will join the distinguished company of Tammy and Denise and… possibly another person who suckle off of JD’s webspace!
Details to follow at this location!



On 28 April 2004 (02:33 PM),
J.D. said:

We will join the distinguished company of Tammy and Denise and… possibly another person who suckle off of JD’s webspace!

I have teats a-plenty. Metaphorically speaking.



On 28 April 2004 (03:14 PM),
tammy said:

Joel, have you ever admittted to Amy that you are John Doe? What a clever disguise to start another weblog with her? You are a cunning fellow!

Bwahahhahah!



On 28 April 2004 (03:44 PM),
Aimee said:

Tammy,

I don’t find your comments very funny at all. In fact, I find them hurtful for many reasons, but I would like to simply elaborate on one idea: Regardless if Joel is John Doe or not, I am disgusted that you continue to take unabashed joy in revealing the identity of John Doe. This may seem like school-yard fun to you, but I’d just like to remind you that through all words and laughs there is a relationship at stake in the revelation of John Doe’s identity. It seems to me that you are being a bit selfish by continually pressing this individual to reveal himself/herself to you. Take a walk in somebody else’s shoes, and think about John Doe or his partner’s feelings should he/she choose to share his/her name …



On 28 April 2004 (03:54 PM),
Johnny said:

I like to think so, too.



On 28 April 2004 (03:56 PM),
Denise said:

Ah…and wouldn’t it be really funny if John Doe was actually a woman? You know, just because Johnny goes by Johnny does not mean Johnny is a man.

Besides…it wouldn’t be half as fun if we knew who Johnny was. Life is more interesting with a little mystery, don’t you think?



On 28 April 2004 (04:01 PM),
Johnny said:

My post above was meant to follow on Tammy’s post, not Aimee’s. It’s just that Aimee’s trigger finger was faster than mine.

As for what Aimee said, however, I take Tammy’s ribbing in the good natured way that I’m sure it’s intended. Is SWMO ever determined that I was talking about her there really wouldn’t be a relationship at stake. She’d just skin me alive and hang my sorry ass out on the clothesline.

Tammy, rest assured, Joel and I are two separate people. And not just because of the medication, either. Who knows, maybe I’m actually Aimee…

And not just because of the medication, either!



On 28 April 2004 (04:15 PM),
Denise said:

Ok – I cannot get the teats-a-plenty picture out of my imagination…even if it was a metaphor.

Thank you J.D. for that lovely picture now burned into my brain!



On 28 April 2004 (04:55 PM),
Tammy said:

Thank you John Doe. And you are right; it was good natured ribbing.

I know Denise that teat thing is just a little too metaphorical!



On 28 April 2004 (05:29 PM),
Aimee said:

Well, if it was all a good natured ribbing (insert intonation of your choice) …

I would simply ask then that my personal relationships be left out of further scrutinization of the John Doe Identity Puzzle.



On 28 April 2004 (05:36 PM),
Mom (Sue) said:

“Jd, I came to your weblog straight from the family sight. As I was reading over there how Jeff played with Noah last night I thought to myself,” JD needs kids. If JD, could just have one kid he’d wonder how he ever lived without them.” Then I read your entry! Now I’m convinced JD needs kids!”

You said it, Tammy; I didn’t. -G- I’ve often thought about the astronomical IQ there would be in a child J.D. and Kris would produce. However, that said, I respect their decisions and am fine with whatever they decide to do in that realm.



On 28 April 2004 (09:26 PM),
Adam Luckey said:

I’m sorry but the Justice League is nothing compared to The Ultimates with Captain America.
Have a Nic night

The Best Uncle Ever

My brother, Tony, brought Alex — the youngest of his two sons — to work this morning. I entertained him for a while. Or, rather, he entertained me.

Alex comes into my office, wearing his Gap-brand child’s hoodie. I shake my head. He’s three-years-old and already a slave to fashion.

Alex: I’ve got a candy in my mouth and in my pocket
Me: You have two candies?
Alex: I have a blue one. In my mouth
Me: What flavor is it
Alex: It’s blue (Accidentally spits it onto the ground. It’s covered with dirt.)
Me: (Loudly, so Tony can hear.) Quick. You’ve only got five seconds. Pick it up and put it in your mouth.
Alex: It’s yicky.
Me: Nah, it’s okay. It was only on the floor for two seconds, tops.

Me: What are you doing here today?
Alex: (Pointing at the floor, which is bare plywood.) We just colored on that. (He and his brother, Michael, have colored on it many times in the past.)
Me: What are you doing here today, Alex?
Alex: Nothing.
Me: And what will you do later?
Alex: Dad said I can do mumble. (Grins.)
Me: Do what?
Alex: Nothing.
Me: Do what?
Alex: Nothing.

Alex: (Pointing at my breakfast bowl.) What’s this?
Me: It’s a bowl. What does it look like?
Alex: Frosting. (Pause.) There’s a bug in it. There’s an ant. There’s an ant at your house. There’s one right there.
Me: Let’s see. Oh, there is. Gross.
Alex: (Urgently.) You’ve got to get him. His touch is yicky. Yick. I’ve gotta tell Daddy. I’ve gotta tell daddy there’s an ant. (Runs from my office, shouting—) Dad, there’s an ant in his house!

Me: Are you going to come over to my house tomorrow?
Alex: Yeah.
Me: Are you?
Alex: Yeah.
Me: What are you going to do at my house?
Alex: Just play toys.
Me: Tony, are your kids coming over tomorrow?
Tony: For the chicken fest?
Me: (Indignant.) Chicken noodle fest.
Tony: Uh — hadn’t planned on it.
Me: Why not?
Tony: They’ll break your stuff, dude.
Me: Do you think they’ll be the only kids there?
Tony: The only destructive ones.
Alex: Only me here. I’m the only one.
Me: Come on. (Peer-pressure voice.) Everyone will be there.
Tony: Is Jeff going to be there?
Me: Yeah.
Tony: There you go. Alex’ll be pushing Noah down the stairs. Alex doesn’t like babies.
Me: Neither does Emma. They could team up. They’d beat up all the other kids.
Tony: Ha. There you go. Tell me what time you want people to leave, and I’ll bring my kids over then.
Alex: (Panicked, feeling inside his pocket) I don’t feel candy. (Relieved) Yes I do.

Alex: (Comes in, carrying a huge bottle of water that Nick has poured for him) Lookit! This is Big Water.
Me: Yes it is.
Alex: This is Big Water.
Me: I’ll give you a box of candy if you drink all that water.
Tony: Alex, can you sing that song?
Nick: There’s a Big Water song?
Alex: (Singing) Big big wahteh, big gibberish.

Me: Do you wanna go for a walk?
Alex: Yeah, let’s go outside.
Me: Look, your Uncle Jeff is burning a fire. Do you wanna go see?
(We walk out to the burn pile.)
Jeff: Your mom and dad sure had a lot of stuff to burn. It made a lot of black smoke.
Alex: It’s really hot.
Me: Fire is like that.
Jeff: The black smoke was probably shoes. (No, I don’t get it either.)
(Alex asks to be taken inside the shop where the guys are making boxes.)
Me: Cristobal, do you want another niño?
Cristobal: Where’s Michael?
Alex: At school.
Cristobal: At school?
Me: Preschool.
José: (Shouting from outside) Hello, Alex.
Me: Come on, let’s get out of the way.
(As we move aside, there’s a loud thud behind me. I look back and Alex is flat against the floor, his Big Water rolling away. He’s tripped over a piece of wood.)
Me: Alex, are you okay?
Cristobal: (Behind Alex, holding his hands in the air, grinning.) I didn’t do it.
Me: Come on, big guy, you’re okay. Here’s your Big Water.

(We watch José drive the forklift for awhile until Alex gets fidgety.)
Me: Now where do you want to go?
Alex: (Pointing at warehouse) Let’s walk through there.
(We walk through the warehouse, looking at the big stacks of corrugated. The air compressor comes on and scares us. Outside I can see robins hopping along. One has a worm in its mouth.)
Me: Look, there’s some birds. They’re robins. (Alex runs at them.) No, don’t chase them! If you chase them, they fly away and then you can’t look at them anymore
Alex: There’s another one. (Runs at it.)

Alex: Let’s sit down.
Me: We can sit down when we get inside.
Alex: I want to sit down now. My head hurts.
Me: What, do you have a five minute pain delay?

(Time passes. Alex comes into my office again.)
Alex: I wanna show you something.
Me: What is it? (Alex takes my hand and leads me down the hallway to the kitchen.)
Alex: (Pointing.) I want some of that.
Me: Ding Dongs? (Pause.) That sounds like a great idea. (Cackles.) There you go.
Alex: Mmm. Mmmm. Mmm. Mmm.
Me: I’m the best uncle ever!

Comments


On 12 March 2004 (12:29 PM),
Lynn said:

So, if you’re really the best uncle ever, you should be taking your nephews, and other young friends, to the “Sing-a-long Wizard of Oz!” In the tradition of “Sing-a-long Sound of Music,” it’s coming to Cinema 21 on NW 21st in Portland from April 9 – 18. It’s great fun and costumes are not only encouraged, but rewarded!



On 12 March 2004 (01:51 PM),
nate said:

“Jesus: (Behind Alex, holding his hands in the air, grinning.) I didn’t do it.”

This line is inadvertantly hilarious until you realize that you don’t mean the Jesus. ;) That Jesus; such a prankster! Even being God’s son can’t stop him from being wacky!



On 12 March 2004 (04:37 PM),
Nikchick said:

Nate’s right! That line totally gave me visions of a twisted sort of Family Circus strip. Jesus, as the invisible “Not Me”, standing over Billy’s prone body, shrugging.

Ha! That’s going to amuse me for some time.



On 12 March 2004 (04:48 PM),
J.D. Roth said:

Ha! Lynn, your Wizard of Oz comment is funny because one of my favorite parents has prohibited me from screening the film for her children (three and five). She and I have different opinions about what is age-appropriate for children, but I try to respect her wishes.

As for the Jesus thing, I’ve changed the name to Cristobal which, while not true is True enough. Know what I mean?



On 12 March 2004 (05:42 PM),
Mom (Sue) said:

This makes me want to see Alex soooo bad! But it’s nice that he is old enough for his dad to take him to the shop when he comes in on his day off. And it’s good that he get more firmly introduced to the world of his uncles. (I was going to say “wacky world” but somehow thought that wasn’t something a loving mother would say, especially since those uncles are such nice people.) -G- I would have loved to have him come here today but I was feeling pretty rotten late this morning and afternoon so it wouldn’t have worked. I will have to miss your fest tomorrow for the same reason, J.D.; also, because I don’t do chicken noodle soup. Since you have invited the whole Internet, have you been able to come up with a head count?



On 12 March 2004 (09:45 PM),
Virginia said:

Sounds like such a fun idea. (Chicken Noodle Soup)
Since I can’t be there I guess I’ll eat a can of Chicken Noodle Soup for lunch in memory of the box of Chicken Noodle Soup mom used to keep under the bench in the breakfast nook. I think it was just for Steve’s boys. Was it you JD or was it for Jeff?



On 13 March 2004 (09:53 AM),
Emily said:

haha. man i wish my uncle let me eat candy off the ground! i have to do it when no one is looking. hehe



On 13 March 2004 (10:10 AM),
Mom (Sue) said:

I think that all three of my boys loved Grandma and Grandpa’s chicken noodle soup, Virginia. It was always Campbell’s, too. I never have liked that soup — I guess I could be doing ads for Progresso. -G- The way I’m feeling, I probably ought to also be celebrating J.D.’s party by eating some of the Progresso chicken noodle soup I think I have on hand (I know I have some of their chicken and wild rice). I knew yesterday that I wouldn’t be feeling good enough to make it to J.D. and Kris’s soup fest because if I get to feeling crummy, it never lasts for just one day. Naturally, I am feeling worse today. Bummer, that. I will miss the opportunity to see my little grandson Noah as well as his parents and uncle and aunt. I hope that J.D. writes an entry about who all else was there and who I missed seeing.

Child Development

Kris and I are atheists. We’re not shy about the fact, yet we don’t advertise it, either. As I’ve mentioned before, my atheism is informed by healthy doses of Mormonism and Mennonitism.

We don’t have any children of our own. We do spend a lot of time with our friends’ children, especially with Harrison and Emma, the Gingerich kids. Most of these children are raised in devoutly Christian families. How, then, do we handle this? Do we see it as our responsibility to sway these kids to the one true path of atheism?

Absolutely not.

Mostly, we avoid the subject. I believe that children, especially those under six, are not prepared to handle Big Topics like comparative religion and sexual orientation and gender identity and racial prejudice. Perhaps the basics can be shared — “other people believe in different gods” — but it’s not my place to educate these children. It’s my place to support their parents without compromising my own value system.

How do I do this?

I never proselytize. If a child asks me a question, I either answer it honestly or, if appropriate, I’m evasive. For example, when Harrison asks me to read to him from a book of Bible stories, I tell him, “I don’t want to read that book right now.” He’s completely satisfied with that answer. And when he tells me Bible stories, I just listen and nod my head.

It’s fascinating to watch these kids develop. I love to watch the evolution of the childhood egotism. Children are, by nature, complete egotists, purely selfish. It’s only with time and experience that they learn to consider other people. The oldest kid I know is nearly six. At what age will he be ready to learn about comparative religion? About gender identity? About slavery? About the Holocaust? When did I learn about these things? Is the curriculum of our educational institutions already properly constructed so that, in general, kids are exposed to material appropriate for their stage of development?

How do parents cope with friends who have different beliefs? Tammy’s unwilling to read certain weblogs because they’re written by lesbians; how much more strongly must she feel about the people with which her children have contact? Does it make a difference if the unsavory types are family rather than friends?

At what age are kids ready to see gunplay and fisticuffs on television and in films? (When did you first see this stuff — I can remember watching westerns at the age of four or five.) At what age are they ready to the stories of the Greek and Roman gods?

I’ve been re-reading Greek and Roman mythology lately. It’s great stuff. Suddenly, I’m excited to see Troy instead of dreading it.

My favorite so far is the story of Pallas Athene (a.k.a. Athena) and her weaving contest with the young woman, Arachne. Here’s an abbreviated version of the tale (the details of which are slightly different than others I’ve read):

Arachne was renowned throughout the region of Lydia (in ancient Greece), for her skill in spinning and weaving. Her teacher was Athene, the goddess of wisdom. As Arachne spun and weaved the finest tapestries and fabrics, a great rivalry grew between them. Athene became jealous of her pupil. So Athene disguised herself as a withered old woman and visited the country girl at her loom. Expressing admiration, the old woman asked who was her teacher.

When the boastful Arachne denied that it had been Athene, the goddess removed her disguise and revealed her true identity. Flushed with anger, she said, “Those who defy the gods must make good their words. We will have a spinning contest to see who weaves the finer tapestry!”

News of the contest spread quickly, and from all over Lydia people came to watch. Athene wove a tapestry featuring an Olympic scene in which Nemesis, the goddess of vengeance, carried away those who dared challenge the immortals. The tapestry was very fine. But Arachne’s tapestry was even more beautiful and elaborate. She depicted scenes of the misbehavior of the gods and goddesses, of seduction, and of the unworthy tricks they played when they wanted their way. The work was perfect. Even Athene could not find a flaw in it.

Angered by Arachne’s skill and impertinence, Athene became enraged. Her hands tore at the tapestry, and she hit Arachne on the head with her weaving tools. In distress, Arachne turned away from the horrified gaze of the onlookers. She ran to the woods, put a rope around her neck, and tried to end her life.

Then Athene took pity on her mortal rival, and being a powerful goddess, she granted her a new life as a spider, the weaver with the ultimate skill in spinning. “Live on, wicked one,” the angry Athene said, “but always hanging, and let your children share your punishment.” And because of the goddess’s wrath, Athene’s body changed into that of a spider and she was thus doomed to spin and weave forever.My reading is so tangential. I started the Rosenbaum book on Hitler, was sidetracked by Proust, but now I’ve been even further sidetracked by mythology�

Tammy’s trying to send a trackback to this entry, but it’s not working, so I’ll do it in reverse. Here entry is The Lines I Draw, and discusses how she, as a parent, determines what her children should be exposed to.

Comments


On 04 February 2004 (08:23 AM),
Tiffany said:

I remember Mom letting me spend the night at a friend�s and go to their church as early as 1st grade. Mom was far more concerned that I would act up in their church then that I would be influenced by anything that was said there. I do remember one friend was not allowed to go to our church, I think that was 4th grade. We had to take her home Sunday morning on the way to church. I have realized that some religions are more easy going then others.

As for violence on TV, I was watching MASH when I was 5 years old (with Dad) and reading �The Body� by Stephen King by 3rd grade. I do not ever remember being told that I could not watch something because it was too violent. I cannot say if that was because there was less violence on TV or Mom just did not see it as a problem. I did watch a movie (when I was 5 or 6) about spiders taking over a small, mountain town that gave me nightmares.



On 04 February 2004 (09:34 AM),
Kris said:

I concur with Tiffany’s memories. Our parents didn’t limit what we saw or heard, but maybe they should have. My mom actually took me to see the movie “Audrey Rose” when I was 6; in this film, a young girl graphically burns to death in a car accident and then is reincarnated. Many scary psychoanalysis/hypnotism scenes as well as the lingering shots of the girls palms pounding on the car window as the flames engulf her. I also read a whole series of VC Andrews “novels” in 4th grade, filled with incest, child abuse & murder, teenage sexuality, suicide, and, of course, surviving in the attic by drinking your brother’s blood because your grandmother is starving you. What fun! I was in a depressed funk for WEEKS. Naturally, I read the entire series several times over.



On 04 February 2004 (09:35 AM),
jenefer said:

We introduced our children to other religions as soon as we could. This usually took the form of fun things, carnivals, Buddha’s birthday, a Seder feast, bar mitzvah, etc. We have friends of many different religions. I always felt that the more our children, and we, knew about other religions, the more we could see the similarities and feel certain that the one we chose was the best for us. I believe it is all the same GOD, so the trappings and celebrations are just man-made. Liz was ready to assimilate the religion much earlier than Adam. She was confirmed at 8 or 9 after a year long class at church.

Adam is still not confirmed. No pressure from us or anyone else will make him ready. Adam enjoyed his comparative religion class at Mater Dei HS his senior year. They explored all the major and many minor religions. I realized that he wasn’t ready any sooner when he came home and chatised me for never exposing him to other religions. He had never seen the religious aspects of the celebrations we attended at the Mormon, Buddhist, Muslim, Unitarian, Lutheran, etc. churches. All he saw was the surface fun. Each child is different. Parents have to be sensitive to that. That’s why parenting is so hard.

Bob, my husband, was confirmed just a year after Liz. That’s when he was ready.

Each different religion is a teaching opportunity for those committed to their own belief. We cannot help our children on the “right path” if we don’t understand or at least know another religion enough to answer questions and discuss it with our children.



On 04 February 2004 (10:13 AM),
J.D. said:

I apologize if this gets long, but y’all have me thinking about when certain “firsts” happened for me. Based on what I can remember, I had early exposure to violence, but was relatively sheltered from sex. (And I regret his now — I would have liked a period of sexual experimentation, and think it would have been quite healthy.) Here’s the best I can reconstruct:

Before school (I was never in preschool or kindergarten): I had pneumonia at some point. First stitches. I can remember seeing Papillon (released in late 1973, so I would have been four, almost five) and being aghast at a man losing his head to a guillotine. Worse still was Westworld (also late 1973), my first exposure to Michael Crichton’s single plot (which he recycles endlessly), with its rampaging murderous robots. When I was five, dad took me to Where the Red Fern Grows, which was also traumatic. (Mom, why did you guys take me to these films? Couldn’t you find babysitters?) Also, I saw War of the Worlds, which scared the hell out of me. Also, I can remember the day I learned to tie my shoes when I was five. We didn’t have a television, but I remember watching at friends’ houses: Lone Ranger (and other westerns), war movies, and lots and lots of cartoons. Mom, can you contribute what you remember about my early childhood development?

1st grade (6yo, 75-76): phonics, rudimentary American history (Bicentennial year), watch Six Million Dollar Man at friends’ houses

2nd grade (7yo, 76-77): comic books in full force, first Hardy Boys, see Star Wars five times, watch Star Trek every chance I get, dad takes me to see my first James Bond film, join Cub Scouts

3rd grade (8yo, 77-78): learn about molecules, water cycle, fractions and basic algebra (“solve for x” — I was given a fifth grade math book), read The Lord of the Rings (though it was above my head), first knowledge of sex

4th grade (9yo, 78-79): back to grade-level math, but it’s tedious, first computer (Apple II), wrote first stories, first correction of teacher, first Oregon history, first geology, first exposure to Native American issues, first soccer team, first interest in astronomy (thanks partly to Andrew Parker’s father), first Piers Anthony and Stephen R. Donaldson, first self-conscious anxiety, first hand-held computer game (LED football)

5th grade (10yo, 79-80): first computer programming in BASIC, all my spare change into comic books, joined Science Fiction Book Club, first masturbation, first Dungeons & Dragons, first slumber party and Saturday Night Live, discover Tintin

6th grade (11yo, 80-81): began to take writing seriously (writing in my spare time), first girlfriend (Gina Hafner), begin to check out library books just for the sex scenes, self-conscious anxiety increases

7th grade (12yo, 81-82): an entire unit on Greek and Roman mythology, taught about Holocaust, beginning of self-guided music discovery (i.e. I begin to listen to rock)

8th grade (13yo, 82-83): computer programming in assembly language, first Shakespeare, wrote first poetry, Jeff and I buy our first record album (Asia’s self-titled debut)

9th grade (14yo, 83-84): reject my old self with intent of becoming a new person, cast off old friends (sorry, Dave!), first kiss, first questioning of Mormonism, first and last shoplifting, first job, obsessed with Hemingway, first (and only) fistfight (though it wasn’t much of a fight since I refused to throw a punch), first rock concert (if Chicago is rock)

10th grade (15yo, 84-85): first understanding of abortion, watch first porn flick, first opportunity for sex, first skip a night’s sleep

11th grade (16yo, 85-86): first alcohol, first Greek philosophy, first real sensitivity to racial issues, feel called to missionary work, first out all night gallivanting around

12th grade (17yo, 86-87): introduction to existentialism, first Ayn Rand, first Dostoevsky, spend some limited time with “popular” kids, first knee injury

Fresh (18yo, 87-88): first IBM-PC, first education classes (want to teach grade school), first questioning of religion in general, first marijuana, first real sensitivity to gender issues, first problems with weight gain, first Mexican food (seriously)

Soph (19yo, 88-89): first Macintosh, first sex, agnostic, last marijuana, first real sensitivity to sexual orientation issues, first Chinese food (seriously), leave home permanently over Christmas break after fight with Dad

Jun (20yo, 89-90): continue path to become grade school teacher

Sen (21yo, 90-91): atheist, foolishly cast aside plans for teaching grade school

More as I think of it…



On 04 February 2004 (11:04 AM),
Lynn said:

I can’t believe you remember all of that! Holy Cow! I can barely remember the names of my teachers, let alone what level of math I was learning! But it was quite an impressive list, despite the occasional overshare. ;-)



On 04 February 2004 (11:43 AM),
Tiffany said:

I remember learning a little about the Holocaust when I was 4. We were living in Germany then, I am sure that is why I heard about it so young. �Here is where a really bad man killed a man because he thought they prayed to the wrong God.� �Did they pray to the wrong God?� �No� �OK�.



On 04 February 2004 (11:51 AM),
Joel said:

Regarding the myth of Arachne as a student of Athene, I’m suddenly amused by the idea of the gods as weary high-school teachers. “Dude, who’d you get for Shop? Ah, man, Vulcan’s friggin’ brutal!”



On 04 February 2004 (12:40 PM),
Paul said:

I don’t understand your unwillingness to read the bible with the kid who asked. Can I assume that you weren’t going to be as entertained reading those stories as you would have been reading Dr. Seuss and therefore you didn’t follow through with the request? I would be suprised to find out that the subject matter of the story affected your decision to read the story or not.

I would be interested in a blog or link to a past blog in which you discussed how you relate to spirituality. The human spirit is a complex function and it has different connotations for me when compared to your atheism.



On 04 February 2004 (12:50 PM),
Dana said:

Well, with a lead-in like that…

(I’m going by ‘school years’ here. My birthday is in July, so in any given year, 197x, I am (x-1) during the first half, and x during the second half of it. Many of these memories are +/-1 year, as I can’t always place when two events happened in relation to one another, but I know *where* they happened, and we conveniently moved every few years).

2 yo/1972: We move from a rented house in the country with no kids around to our first house in a neighborhood filled with kids.

3 yo/1973: My brother is born.

4 yo/1974: Overdose on penicillin (mislabeled to give me two teaspoons an hour instead of one teaspoon every two hours), have an allergic reaction. Spend a couple days in the hospital having my tonsils out. Play ‘army’, ‘cops & robbers’, and ‘cowboys & indians’ in the neighborhood, all basically the same game. Around here, and over the next couple of years, SWAT, CHiPS, Barney Miller, Mash, and the like are on TV and I watch them.

5 yo/1975/kindergarden: Bret gets bronchitis, is in an oxygen tent for a week. My friend Danny gets called the ‘n-word’ in kindergarden. Danny lives kitty-corner across the street from me, and had been adopted by a white family. I stick by him and try to cheer him up after the incident. Begin phonetics. First and only bee-sting. Get involuntarily kissed at school. Catch chicken pox as a result. I remember Roots being on TV, but I don’t remember if it was ’75 or ’76. I didn’t completely understand it, but I did watch bits of it. Bret has to sleep with weird shoes on because of pigeon toes. Dress as Superman for Halloween. Mom makes the costume, and borrows an old pair of red tights from the girl next door (which, because of the snow, I have to wear over my courderoys — this didn’t work very well). I get weirdly nervous about wearing ‘girls clothes’.

6 yo/1976/first grade: I realize I want to be a girl. Interracial couple (wife from Botswana) move in next door. During the summer the high-school-aged moron on the other side of us tries to go after Grace with a baseball bat while me and a few friends watch from my porch. Interracial couple move. Get plowed into at school by kid running for his bus. Get a slight concussion, spend a couple days in the hospital, out of school about a week. Learn to ride a bike. Swimming lessons.

7 yo/1977/second grade: Big year — Get glasses, see Tutankhamen exhibit and Museum of Science and Industry in Chicago. See Flash Gordon serials on TV. See Star Wars. More swimming lessons. Win 2nd place in the district in the pinewood derby. I read my very first ‘real’ book on my own (a scholastic book, “The Disappearance of Mr. Allen”). In my first fight. I’m winning when we’re split up by an adult on the playground. Nobody is hurt. I think this is also the year I first remember a true depressive episode — I know it happened in Michigan, and I know I had my Micronauts when it happened.

8 yo/1978/third grade: Begin reading in earnest. Bret in kindergarden. Teacher ruins me for life by teaching us to not trust my memory, and always write out my math longhand.
We move from the UP of Michigan to Moorhead, MN. First memories of seeing Star Trek (the episode with ‘Lurch’ sticks in my head for some reason).

9 yo/1979/fourth grade: Picked on and teased as the new kid and for being a ‘brain’. Reading at a nearly adult level (about a book a day for ‘young adult books’, two or three for an older audience – these books include Sex, Drugs, and Rock and Roll, even), including the Hobbit. Start LotR, but don’t finish it. First exposure to computers. Get to be in the STEP program midyear, once they realize I’m qualified. First exposure to Native American issues (although I know about them, as the Lake Place is fairly close to a Reservation). Learn about the Tassaday people in the Phillipines. Learn about optics and refraction. Start Drawing. Get in trouble when someone dares me to explain where babies come from and I explain about sperm, eggs, and fertilization. The Martian Chronicles miniseries is on TV, and I see parts of it. Read the book to fill in the bits I missed. Learn how to read maps, compasses, and how Orienteering works. Read most of H.G. Wells stories, including War of the Worlds. Learn about the existence of Sex Change operations. I’m in my second fight, which I do not win, and in fact run away from in tears, while my tormenter laughs at me.

10 yo/1980/fifth grade: Read the LotR. Take an Applesoft Basic programming class in summer school. Read Huckleberry Finn. Logic Problems in STEP. First exposure to Dr. Who (in novelized form). Play Dromio of Ephasus in a version of The Comedy of Errors in STEP. Know a guy who gets into trouble for bringing one of his Dad’s Playboys to school. Played intramural soccer terribly, but had fun anyway. First ‘m-word’ experience.

11 yo/1981/sixth grade: D&D. Frequent access to an apple II at school, begin programming in earnest, trying to write our own game. Realize that I read to avoid difficult emotional situations and depression. This doesn’t do me much good from a practical point of view. Join the School Crossing Guards, use the powers thereto appertaining to break up fights by intimidating them with my semi-official status. Several refugee families from Southeast Asia settle in Moorhead, we have several in my class. See the Blues Brothers on HBO at a friends. We get our dog, Betsy. Read Watership Down.

12/1982/7th grade (jr. hs) Lots more computer use, including Ultima II and the like. More getting picked on. Start learning to play the Oboe. Play Humpty Dumpty in a school play of Alice in Wonderland. See First Blood and Bladerunner at a sleepover. Grandma passes away from colon cancer. Learn to sew and cook. Also take shop. By this point I really hate gym. I’m usually second to last or last picked.

13/1983/8th grade: Move to Nevada mid-year. Get our first computer, Apple IIe. Read Black Like Me. Have friends with more diverse hardware (Commodores, IBM compatibles, and so forth). First actual conscious cross dressing, mostly a few skirts mom is storing in my closet because of a lack of closet space in our NV house. No lock on the door to my room, so I prop up my chair under the doorknob to keep anybody from discovering me. I remember lots of WW II in school in Nevada. Also, took an ‘acting’ class (as ‘acting’ as you can get in Jr. High, I suppose).

14/1984/9th grade: Algebra. See the video about the liberation of Auschwitz that I keep yapping about. Also get introduced to (effectively) comparitive religion covering Christianity, Islam, and Judaism. First exposure to gay people (although most are closeted and I’m a bit thick about it). Attend exactly one Debate tournament, and really enjoy it. Biology class, with frog dissection. See the ‘risque’ version of Romeo & Juliet. Get picked on a lot less, as I’ve mostly learned how to handle bullies so that I’m not a target. We get a 300 baud modem for the Apple. Have jewish friends that I’m aware of (that is, I was aware that judaism existed previously, but I didn’t know anybody who had identified themselves as jewish). Confirmed as a Lutheran (delayed ’cause we moved around a whole bunch).

15/1985/10th grade: More debate. Make ‘Senior’ in both individual events and debate. More algebra. Chemistry class. Take typing, too. Debate group contains a wide mix of religious attitudes (ranging from carrying a bible around to class to the athiests). Effectively agnostic at this point, although it’s been moving in that direction for years. First friends who smoke (cigarettes). Shuttle explodes when I’m home alone, sick.

16/1986/11th grade: More debate. Trig and precalc. Physics class. More computer programming classes, Pascal this time. I win a scientific pocket calculator for having the highest score on a standardized physics test in our school, and get to sit in on a lecture about Supernova 1987A, which is pretty cool. We move to Idaho. Learn to drive. First exposure to formalized logic. Existentialism and other philosophical things hit around here, too. Get to learn some SCUBA in a pool, as well as learn a bunch about electron microscopes and whatnot at a special “brainiac summer class” at UNR.

17/1987/12th grade: New kid again. Make friends, but don’t have much fun. Programming class uses IBM computers. First real experience using one on a nearly daily basis. First real exposure to Mormonism (I knew some Mormons in Nevada, but Idaho is different). Calculus, more chemistry. Read Crime and Punishment. Work at Shop-Ko during the summer. Get a National Merit Scholarship.

18/1988/frosh: Start at WU. New kid again. Get a 286 with a 20 MB HD for HS graduation. Room with a friend from HS in Nevada the first year, which is…ahem, interesting. First girlfriend, technically, although we never actually kiss. She broke up with me in a note. Calculus, ‘real’ programming on the PR1ME, again in pascal. Briefly consider trying a triple major (physics/math/computers), but rapidly realize that this is insane. Meet Dagny. Work on an assembly line at HP during the summer. First real exposure to people drinking around me. Not particularly fun. Vonnegut speaks at WU, which is pretty darn keen. See the theater departments production of Cloud 9, where several female characters are played by men, and vice versa.

19/1989/soph: Meet Andrew Cronk. Kris Gates is in my philosophy class taught by Moss. Linear Algebra. More physics. Actually kiss a girl this year. Took Japanese for no apparent reason for a semester. More roommate issues. My roommate from freshman year comes out as gay, to nobody’s surprise. Matt Long, also from our HS in NV is a freshman this year. I discover he’s also gay (I told you I was thick).

20/1990/junior: Get my first car. Move into a single, meet JD. Abstract Algebra. Get elected floor representative in the dorm, probably because nobody else actually bothers. JD takes up smoking a pipe because he’s dumb, and he with his pipe and Andrew with his clove cigarettes wander around pompously smoking and acting cool.

21/1991/senior: Move into off campus apartments, still in a single. Do not take Arnika and Tara up on their innocent offer to cross-dress me because there’s some CD party going on at the elk’s next door — I’m freaked out by it, in fact, because I’m afraid someone knows I want to be a girl. Coincidentally, first time wearing pantyhose…

I dunno if this is actually interesting to anybody. I was exposed to racial discrimination and hatred at about five or six. I was reading adult fiction with killing, sex, and aliens with weird sexuality and biology in fourth grade at the age of 9. I read Huckleberry Finn, which deals with slavery and whatnot when I was 10. I knew people who were gay (and despite my obtuseness, I did know *some* of them were gay) and who were of widely different religious faiths by the time I was in high school.

I know I was a conscious, thinking, empathetic person by the time I was five, because I had empathy (ie, non-egotism-driven) feelings for Danny in kindergarden. And I remember always trying to take care of my brother right from the moment he was born (I was three). That was My Job as an older sibling.



On 04 February 2004 (12:54 PM),
Dana said:

Dang, two additions.

In 2nd grade, my teacher’s son was killed in a motorcycle accident, and we had a sub for the last third of a year or so.

In 3rd grade, there was a solar eclipse, and I remember showing everybody in class how to make a simple pinhole viewer with a couple of index cards.



On 04 February 2004 (01:12 PM),
J.D. said:

Paul said: I don’t understand your unwillingness to read the bible with the kid who asked. Can I assume that you weren’t going to be as entertained reading those stories as you would have been reading Dr. Seuss and therefore you didn’t follow through with the request? I would be suprised to find out that the subject matter of the story affected your decision to read the story or not.

No, I chose not to read the Bible stories (not the Bible itself) out of principle. Harrison is exposed to Bible stories constantly, believes them to be true, and he doesn’t need me to read them to him in order to further his Christian education. Too, doing so might convey to him that I believe them. While I’m certainly not trying to make him understand that I don’t believe them, I don’t want to give him a false impression, either. Totally avoiding the issue seems like a solution that ought to be acceptable to all parties. I do condone cats, so I’m happy to read The Cat Club to him. :)



On 04 February 2004 (01:36 PM),
dowingba said:

I don’t believe in cats, personally.



On 04 February 2004 (02:40 PM),
Paul said:

I am suprised, as I said I would be. Harrison is too young to understand the complexities of your belief system, but he is old enough to understand that he can assume you condone the principles embedded in the bible to be your principles because you read the words to him? You appear to be subvertly proselytizing to Harrison by not enjoying the words on a printed page with him. Isn’t the power of the truth best identified when bright to the light of day or at least verbalized in a story between JD and Harrison? For god’s sake JD, read the kid the story he enjoys and don’t foist the false idol of a cat upon him!

I love the cult of JD.



On 04 February 2004 (02:56 PM),
Kris said:

Paul, in my mind the difference is this: Harrison (5) and Emma (3) can clearly understand the concept of “pretend”. They know Spiderman is pretend and they are amused by the idea that the cats are having their cat-friends over for a spaghetti party because they know that that, too, is just pretend. They know real cats don’t cook spaghetti. However, in Sunday school, the Bible stories are not presented as part of a myth or even as allegory; they are presented as truth. That’s fine with me; it’s up to their parents to decide when to expose H&E to alternative truths. But it is my choice to read or not read those stories as I see fit. I choose not to read the Berenstein Bears (or however you spell it), too (because I’ve always thought them dumb). The kids deal with my preferences just as I deal with theirs. There are plenty of books we all enjoy to quibble over a few.



On 04 February 2004 (02:59 PM),
J.D. said:

Harrison is not old enough to understand whether or not I condone his belief system by reading Bible stories to him. He is old enough to remember whether or not I’ve read them to him, though, and one day will be old enough to examine these memories with respect to a more complex examination of religious belief. Trust me: my decision is not capricious. Besides, isn’t it better to lead him to the Cult of J.D. through felinity?

Facts about The Cult of J.D.

Deity: Me.
Sacred food: Kalamata olive.
Sacred music: “Bad” by U2.
Sacred book: Cold Mountain by Charles Frazier.
Sacred film: Amelie.
Sacred day: March 25th.
Sacred rituals: daily writing, daily reading (but not Bible stories!), breaking bread with friends, yo-yo dieting, standing in line for films, discussing geeky topics ad nauseum, sitting on a log in the middle of the forest.
Sacred motto: “why do today what can be put off until tomorrow”.
Sacred scriptures: Timecube!
Sacred commandments: thou shalt not shop at big chain stores that invade your town; thou shalt not read Bible stories to children; thou shalt love your cat; thou shalt relax; thou shalt spend $50 for a bottle of whiskey but refuse to spend more than $20 for any one piece of clothing; thou shalt forgive all transgressions; thou shalt maintain contact, yada yada yada.

The cult of J.D. welcomes all members.

(And what will be really amusing is if this weblog is still operational four years from now (or six or eight), and Harrison rummages through it to stumble upon this post.)



On 04 February 2004 (03:53 PM),
Lynn said:

I’m with you on this, JD. Reading Bible stories with someone when you don’t agree with that belief system is hypocritical. He may not understand it now, but someday when Harrison is old enough to understand your beliefs, he will look back and realize why you chose not to read those books. I actually don’t see why this is such a difficult concept to understand? Just because it involves the sensitive subject of the Bible? What if it had to do with hunting, or war, and you didn’t believe in those activities? I’m sure others would think it fine to choose not to read those books.



On 04 February 2004 (04:29 PM),
Tammy said:

I don’t see what the big deal is about JD not reading Bible stories to the kids. Actually he should be applauded for this. If he believes the Bible stories to be fables of no value then why should he read them? I wouldn’t read Jehovahs Witness literature or the Book of Mormon to my kids because I think they’re wrong. I stand on the same principle as JD. The only difference between us is that my beliefs are right and his are wrong! :) (love ya JD)



On 04 February 2004 (05:47 PM),
Aimee said:

[Further Dana-Aimee coincidence: I played Maud in the Luther College production of Cloud 9 (nearly ten years after you saw it); Joel played Harry Bagley in the same show … You’re one of the few people I know who has mentioned that show in casual conversation (in this case, auto-bio opportunity). Nonetheless, incredibly significant piece of theatre – I highly recommend it to anyone who’d enjoy upsetting their teacups.]



On 04 February 2004 (06:36 PM),
Jennifer (Harrison’s Mom) said:

I feel compelled to respond. If you must know the Truth. Jd never actually reads stories to our kids. Yes, he opens up a book and begins with the first few written words. Then he adds a few of his own ideas, substitutes names and places for those of his own choosing, and sometimes reaches the end of the story (or not) with the same general plot line or theme. You can see why it would be nearly impossible for him to read a Bible story using this technique. The kids usually get frustrated with Jd’s rendition of their favorite story gone askew and respond by jumping on him… but they love him anyway.



On 04 February 2004 (07:34 PM),
Dana said:

I think it sounds like someone needs to write some children’s books…



On 04 February 2004 (08:09 PM),
Drew said:

As I go dottering off into middle age, I find myself still occasionally pompous and smoking – usually in J.D’s vicinity. Guilty as charged, madam! J.D. is probably a bad influence on me, but I like him anyway. I’d say more, but I’m busy writing Wizardry I in J#.



On 08 February 2004 (04:45 PM),
J.D. Roth said:

This weblog entry, at the always great Fussy, seems relevant to this disucssion.

Old Friends

Kris took yesterday off to can tomatoes with Jenn. Both were inundated by ripe tomatoes, and with the onset of the rain there was danger that the fruit would swell and burst and become generally less useful. Mostly they canned Jenn’s salsa. Kris picked some of my Super Hot Thai peppers from our garden. Part of her day was spent cutting these (and, if I know Jenn, de-seeding them before use). By the evening, Kris’ hands burned from the accumulated pepper oils. She rubbed lotion on them. She soaked them in a bowl of ice. She put more lotion on them. She slept with an icepack in her hands. Poor Kris!

For dinner, Kris made chicken pot pie. As we were eating, Jenn asked me how my knee was doing.

“Ah, not so well today,” I said. “Physical therapy was painful. My knee hurts.”

General sympathy. Kris noted that for the first two months after my surgery I was diligent about my rehabilitation, doing every exercise that was required of me. Then, one day, I just gave up. Now my recovery is behind, and it’s because my mental fortitude just isn’t there.

“Tyler asked me how my home exercises were going,” I said. “I lied to him. I told him that they’re going okay. I told him that I don’t do them every day but that I do them.”

The conversation continued.

A bit later, Hank interrupted: “Why did you lie?” His mind was back several sentences, parsing the fact that for some reason I’d lied.

Jeremy smacked me upside the head. Hard. “J.D. lied because he is a bad person,” he said.

“He shouldn’t have lied,” Jenn said.

“It was wrong of me to lie,” I said.

Sometimes I forget that the kids are there, you know?

When I was a kid, it seemed that my parents listened to the same records again and again. (Actually, it was Dad that listened to them; I can’t remember whether Mom liked them, too. Maybe she’ll share.) Long before Abba, Neil Diamond and Simon and Garfunkel were popular in our house.

(We lived in Portland until I was two. Sometime before we moved back to the ancestral homestead, Dad checked out a bunch of books and records from the Portland Public Library: lots of books on boat-building, and a couple of Neil Diamond records, including the Jonathan Livingston Seagull soundtrack. We moved to Canby and the library materials moved with us. Dad never returned them.)

My earliest memory of Simon and Garfunkel is hazy, and probably only resembles the factual truth in a small way. It was a sunny spring Sunday afternoon and I was in Mom and Dad’s bedroom, lying on the bed. I was listening to Simon and Garfunkel’s Greatest Hits (the only album of theirs that Dad ever owned). Was somebody listening with me? I don’t remember.

I do remember that when “Cecilia” began to play I stood up and jumped around the bed, singing at the top of my lungs. For a long time after I would throw my four- or five-year-old enthusiasm into the lyrics of that song:

Cecilia

Cecilia, you’re breaking my heart
You’re shaking my confidence daily
Oh, Cecilia, I’m down on my knees
I’m begging you please to come home
Come on home

Making love in the afternoon with Cecilia
Up in my bedroom
I got up to wash my face
When I come back to bed
Someone’s taken my place

Cecilia, you’re breaking my heart
You’re shaking my confidence daily
Oh, Cecilia, I’m down on my knees
I’m begging you please to come home
Come on home

Jubilation, she loves me again,
I fall on the floor and I’m laughing,
Jubilation, she loves me again,
I fall on the floor and I’m laughing

I hadn’t the faintest idea what I was singing. (By way of contrast: last night Hank was teaching me Veggie Tales songs: “On the first day of firt grade etc. etc, on the second day of second grade etc. etc.” I wonder how long until he starts jumping around singing about making love with Cecilia in his bedroom.)

That greatest hits album was a fixture of my youth, of my adolescence, of my young adulthood. It has become a part of me.

It had never occurred to me that they had anything other than a greatest hits album. Midway through high school, during one of many Sunday afternoons spent with the Kauffman girls (one f or two, Kristin?), I stumbled upon their father’s collection of Simon and Garfunkel records. On my next trip to Tower Records, I bought copies for myself.

I can remember sitting in Mr. Sprague’s first-period chemistry class, listening to Parsley, Sage, Rosemary & Thyme (still my favorite Simon and Garfunkel album) on my Walkman while doing molar equations.

At the time, my favorite Simon and Garfunkel song was “The Dangling Conversation” (though it actually seems a bit pretentious now):

The Dangling Conversation

It’s a still life water color,
Of a now late afternoon,
As the sun shines through the curtain-lace
And shadows wash the room.

And we sit and drink our coffee,
Couched in our indifference,
Like shells upon the shore:
You can hear the ocean roar
In the dangling conversation
And the superficial sighs —
The borders of our lives.

And you read your Emily Dickinson,
And I my Robert Frost,
And we note our place with bookmarkers
That measure what we’ve lost.

Like a poem poorly written,
We are verses out of rhythm,
Couplets out of rhyme,
In syncopated time
And the dangling conversation
And the superficial sighs,
Are the borders of our lives.

Yes, we speak the things that matter,
With words that must be said,
“Can analysis be worthwhile?”
“Is the theater really dead?”

And how the room is softly faded
And I only kiss your shadow,
I cannot feel your hand,
You’re a stranger now unto me—
Lost in the dangling conversation
And the superficial sighs,
In the borders of our lives.

Once I was at a girlfriend’s house. Her parents were gone, and we were making out on the couch while watching public television. The Simon and Garfunkel Concert in Central Park came on and suddenly I lost interest in the girl. I was enthralled by the music. (I think the girl was actually somewhat relieved!)

My sense of nostalgia first became honed in college as I came to realize how much I missed my friends from the church youth group. When I was feeling especially wistful, I would listen to “Old Friends”:

Old Friends

Old friends.
Old friends
Sit on their park bench
Like bookends.

A newspaper blown through the grass
Falls on the round toes
On the high shoes
Of the old friends.

Old friends,
Winter companions,
The old men
Lost in their overcoats,
Waiting for the sunset.

The sounds of the city,
Sifting through the trees,
Settle like dust
On the shoulders
Of the old friends.

Can you imagine us
Years from today,
Sharing a park bench quietly?
How terribly strange
To be seventy.

Old friends,
Memory brushes the same years.
Silently sharing the same fear—

Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel went their separate ways more than thirty years ago. Though their relationship has not been nearly as fractious as the press would have us believe, their joint appearances have been infrequent and, occasionally, unhappy.

Now it seems as if the duo is ready to perform together again for an extended tour. Today they announced plans for a thirty-city tour which includes a stop in Portland.

I don’t care about the cost, I don’t care about the date: I will be at that show.

Ack.

Not to be outdone, Berkeley Breathed has announced plans to return to the world of comic strips with the debut of Opus on November 23rd.

The world has not been the same since Bloom County ended. Though I liked Outland some, it was a pale ghost of its predecessor. I’m even tempted to pay ten bucks to view the entire run of the original strip. (I can remember sitting in the library at Ackerman Junior High School during the fall of 1982, leafing through the first Bloom County collection with Dave Carlson and Andrew Parker and Mitch Sherrard and the rest of the geeks.)

Don’t snort the dandelions!

Comments


On 10 September 2003 (08:15 AM),
Tiffany said:

You deserved the smack in the head.
I want to see S&G too.



On 10 September 2003 (10:35 AM),
Kristin said:

Two f’s. At least you confessed and admitted you shouldn’t have lied. Harrison is learning the truth: sometimes adults do things they shouldn’t do. Children keep us accountable.



On 10 September 2003 (10:36 AM),
Kris said:

I most certainly should have accepted Jenn’s offer of gloves!

To be technically correct (true), however, I didn’t take the day off. I’m working my forty hours this week: Sunday, Monday, Wednesday, Thursday. I just arranged to have Tuesday be my day off. For those who don’t know, I am currently able to work a 4 day, 10-hour shift schedule at the lab. I highly recommend it!



On 10 September 2003 (12:12 PM),
Mom said:

Your dad and I shared pretty much the same taste in music while you were growing up, J.D. He was the one who was most likely to buy the albums we listened to, though, because I was too busy with domestic concerns to really get involved in that process or to figure out if there were other kinds of music that I liked better. I have always loved Simon and Garfunkel, still do, although I have never liked the words to Cecelia (or Mrs. Robinson, for that matter). I differed with your dad on Crystal Gayle, too; he really liked her but I didn’t care for her all that much. I especially thought the song Don’t It Make My Brown Eyes Blue was dumb. :-) Abba was okay and I liked Neil Diamond, although I find both of those quite irritating now in my old age. :-)



On 10 September 2003 (12:20 PM),
J.D. said:

I have never liked the words to Cecelia (or Mrs. Robinson, for that matter).

Ha!

That’s right. I’d forgotten that you didn’t like “Mrs. Robinson”. It used to be that when I played the record, you wouldn’t let me listen to that song. I heard it plenty anyway, of course (a mother can’t always be around), but I could never figure out what was so bad about it, even when I got older:

Mrs. Robinson

And here’s to you, Mrs. Robinson
Jesus loves you more than you will know,
Woe, woe, woe

God bless you, please, Mrs. Robinson
Heaven holds a place for those who pray
Hey, hey, hey
Hey, hey, hey

We’d like to know a little bit about you for our files
We’d like to help you learn to help yourself
Look around you all you see are sympathetic eyes
Stroll around the grounds until you feel at home

And here’s to you Mrs. Robinson
Jesus loves you more than you will know
Woe, woe, woe

God bless you, please, Mrs. Robinson
Heaven holds a place for those who pray
Hey hey hey
Hey hey hey

Hide it in a hiding place where no one ever goes
Put it in your pantry with your cupcakes
It’s a little secret just the Rovinson’s affair
Most of all you’ve got to hide it from the kids

Coo, coo, cachoo Mrs. Robinson,
Jesus loves you more than you will know
Woe, woe, woe

God bless you please, Mrs. Robinson
Heaven holds a place for those who pray
Hey hey hey
Hey hey hey

Sitting on a sofa on a Sunday afternoon
Going to the candidate’s deate
Laugh about it, shout about it,
When you’ve got to choose
Ev’ryway you look at it you lose

Where have you gone, Joe Dimagio?
A nation turns its lonely eyes to you
Woo woo woo

Whats that you say Mrs. Robinson?
Joltin’ Joe has left and gone away.
Hey hey hey
Hey hey hey

I still don’t know what the hell that song is about, but I remember that you didn’t want me to listen to it. In retrospect, that may have had more to do with the film from which it came than with the lyrics themselves. :)



On 10 September 2003 (01:26 PM),
Tammy said:

I was told once by a man I was dating that Mrs. Robinson was about a married woman who had an affair and was trying to hide it. Could that be why your mother didn’t like the song? I never could understand it either but I just accepted this guys interpretation of it. I don’t know. Maybe he was way out in left field.



On 10 September 2003 (01:55 PM),
Mom said:

I think my dislike for Mrs. Robinson was (and is) largely because of the movie. Yes, it was about an older woman having an affair with a much younger man, and being very blase about it. Also, the part about “Jesus loves you more than you will know” struck me as being very facetious and almost sacreligious because I was sure Simon and Garfunkel didn’t seriously believe in a strict Christian life (many of their other songs didn’t go along with the Mormon version of Christianity that I believed then). I’m not sure what I was trying to protect you from in not letting you listen to the song unless it was these aspects of it. I don’t remember doing that, but then I have some pretty significant memory lapses regarding those longer-ago days. A parent’s protective urges aren’t always logical. :-)



On 10 September 2003 (04:51 PM),
Nikchick said:

Funny you would write so much about Simon and Garfunkel today. Having recently returned from my original homeland of northern Minnesota, I spent a lot of time listening to the songs of my youth on the “Classics” radio station while riding up to the memorial with my dad. In particular, Kodachrome came on the radio, hit me upside the head with nostalgia, and has been stuck in my brain for days since.

No idea why, it’s really kind of a dumb little song, but it had its way with me anyway.



On 05 November 2003 (11:06 PM),
Cecilia said:

i think it’s soooo cute that u used to sing ‘Cecilia’ as a child. I’m 15 and my parents bought me their greatest hits so i could aprreciate why people said i was braking their hearts. ok so its not thier best song, but its still fantastic and having the same name is even better. I just wrote to say you were pretty darn cool. cya