August 30, 2004
Fractures
Emma, Matt's cousin, caught her foot as she dove over a railing and landed on both her hands. Something had to give and it was not just one, but both wrists.
View larger image
August 29, 2004
More Nica
Miscellaneous Nica photos. photos
(As usual, photo links open new windows so stop clicking on that back arrow.)
Sorry, Chris, I like insects.
For Diane.
View the rest of the cartoon
August 28, 2004
Relatively Speaking
I think the conversation went something like this:
Bertha. "Are you related to the people who own Miller beer?"
Matt. "Are you kidding? Do you know how many Millers there are in the US? Are you related to all of the Cuadras?" Of which there are about one hundred and fifty.
Bertha. "Yes."
La Madre gave me permission to post this. I wonder if that was enough... .
August 27, 2004
King of the Hill
Mr. Gilliam lived directly across the street from us in a white clapboard house, and from his rocking chair on his front porch he surveyed his property. With a street full of boys, he needed to, but in our own neighborhood, we were mostly innocent. Mr. Gilliam was my grandfather's age and he might have shared similar experiences, though he lived in Ohio and Roy O'Connell, six hundred miles away, in Nevada Missouri.
They both, at an age that spoke more about their past than the present, bought outlandish cars, Mr. Gilliam a pink, 1957 Oldsmobile 98, five years before Roy, his white Cadillac. A year before I earned my driver's license, I drove that white Cadillac; I could only dream about driving the pink Olds.
But what I remember most about Mr. Gilliam was his language.
When we played king of the hill on the edge of his sloping lawn, he’d holler, "No, no bank, papa spank." Climb his trees and you'd hear. "No, no, trees, papa please." I climbed everyone's trees, but his, and I was in his neighbor's tree when Charles reached over to touch the high tension wire running between the limbs.
It was a humid summer day in Cincinnati and we were perched Like blackbirds in that tree. Glenn and I, dressed in our white shorts and tight black muscle t-shirts stood below the wires looking up, while Paul, Charles's younger bother, clung to the highest limb, above the telephone pole. Steven Brown, hands clasped behind his head, rested on a branch shaped like the homemade slingshot which hung from his pocket. We were honored to have Charles in our tree. He was, after all, a big brother, someone to whom you might say hi - if you were feeling really talkative.
"Do you dare me to touch it?" Charles asked with a broad grin.
We didn't dare to dare Charles to touch the wire.
Dare him to maybe die? Nope, not us and we were mostly fearless. But we were intrigued. What would happen if he touched the black wire? Charles flapped his hand at the wire as if he were playing with a burner on a hot stove. Touch it quickly and feel no pain. His game made us giddy, but still we remained silent. We wanted him to , and we didn't want him to. How to explain that?
"What if I touch the wire but with a leaf to protect my hand?" Charles asked.
Sure, that made sense to me. Leaves that hung like laundry might add enough protection. From what, I wasn't even sure. Paul broke our silence with, ”Don’t do it,” but too late to stop his brother whose hand was already in motion. Thwap! His hand hit the leaf, the leaf hit the wire and they both bounced back. All of us jumped but Charles.
“Are you okay?”
“Didn’t feel a thing.”
We weren’t so sure because Charles climbed down from the tree, waved to Mr. Gilliam on his porch, and walked straight into his house.
Posts up and most of the floor has been deck-screwed to the joists. The happy couple pose as Jan dreams of a full width set of stairs, and Mark wonders why we didn't accomplish more.
View larger image
August 25, 2004
Yellow and Black
These photos are not as good as some in the past, primarily because I didn’t have enough natural light. However, because it was early morning and still about 54 degrees, I was able to get within a couple inches of the nest. I went back in the afternoon, when the sun was out, and I couldn’t get near them.
I like the full-on eye contact.
View larger image
View larger image
August 24, 2004
Connections
Dan Downing
Val and her new husband Mike -- in Mickey Mouse ears to add levity to the occasion -- appreciating parents and closest friends at their rehearsal dinner.
The wedding of my niece brought together 175 people -- separated by two degrees or less -- in Austin last weekend.
For me it was three days of connecting, reflecting, laughing, learning.
I learned about my son's partner, JimK, and his new model yacht racing hobby.
I connected with my childhood friend MaryAnn, whose mother, Nancy, was my second mother, as I wrestled with growing up in Mexico City.
I met Madeleine, the strong and beautiful daughter of my sister's best friend, Elena, about to begin her career as an art teacher at the same French elementary school I attended 50 years ago.
I listened to comments of admiration about how easy my two daughters, Sarah and Rebecca, are to talk with, from a new friend, Mike's best man, Matt.
I had breakfast with my 85 year-old-mother Bertha, and my just-turned-37 son Jim, and reflected on three learnings from my father that have shaped who I am.
I read a book my son Greg gave me, whose author he identifies with, and gained insights about his own personal dreams and inner struggles.
Weddings and funerals have a natural way of getting us in touch with the parts of ourselves we see reflected in people we've known and loved. We need more events like this, less momentous or terminal, to appreciate each other and learn about ourselves.
August 23, 2004
Poker Night
Poker at Rob's house in Boxborough.
Rob's father-in-law, Ernie, with the second, natural, straight flush of the night. I had the first.
View larger image
Just cash.
Peeking at Rob's cards.
The players. || Ernie, Mark, Stu, Dwight, Mark's brother-in-law, Al, and Rob.
August 22, 2004
The Birth of a New Business
Adam and Lukas's new office space.
Lukas (but a blurrrr), Adam and Mark.
We worked all day on Sunday, and Adam claims we exceeded his expectations, but it seemed to me we (maybe it was just moi) were frozen in amber.
View larger image
August 21, 2004
August 19, 2004
From the Seine to the Cirques
Ed and Beth (Mr. & Mrs. rakkity) take a working vacation in
France.
August 18, 2004
Honda Civic
Peter and Patti gave Matt their 1989 Honda, which is good shape except for some minor body rust. Matt, Daryl and Robby worked yesterday to fill, sand and prime those rust holes before driving it to the Mobil Station for inspection.
They’ve also been customizing the interior. When I arrived home from work, Matt said, “Dad, we need another screw for the license plate. We added one of Daryl’s speakers and the bass shakes the plate.”
I thought, they added a speaker and the license plate rattles, what sense does that make? Click here to view the speaker.
August 17, 2004
Centro Decolar Maria Auxiliadora Familia Fabreto
Photos from the school - Centro Decolar Maria Auxiliadora Familia Fabreto- where Matt and Hil performed volunteer work.
View larger image
View larger image
“Mike, there is something I need to tell you, but I can’t right now.”
If you fall off the chimney, or if the platform which supports my ladder collapses, you’ll bounce off the roof, tumble about two stories and then fold yourself on the air conditioning unit below. Chris stood on the top of his ladder, behind the chimney, as I stood precariously perched on mine, and we both struggled to place a newly formed copper cap over the top. I was unaware that as we moved the cap back and forth to find a firm fit, my ladder was walking towards the edge of the plywood platform. Until Chris, trying not alarm, gave me that rather amusing heads up.
August 16, 2004
Ragtime
Coalhouse Walker & Sarah
Molly was the Company Stage Manager for the Newton Summer Stage production of Ragtime. Newton Summer Stage is a summer musical theatre intensive program for high school teens with a mission to create a professional quality show. In past years it was called The Drama Training Institute but they changed the name to break off from the morning program that does non musical theatre training. Here are Dan's and my photos.
August 15, 2004
Satuday's Project
View larger image
Mark created the problem when he drew that white door into his garage plans. The door asks for a platform with stairs. Jan thought why not a full width deck maybe wrapping around the back side, Adam wanted parabolic curves and I, a staircase that lands on the driveway. Mark ended the discussion when he pronounced it would be an eighteen by ten foot rectangle with a short set of stairs landing near a cobbled path that snaked through the woods.
At lunch, after we’d erected the posts and the bearing beam, Jan asked me, “Don’t you think a two level deck would be great?”
Looking out for Mark and my own limited free time, I stopped Jan with, “I hate wood.”
“But you’re a carpenter.”
“And I hate wood. If you want another level, make it out of stone. Something, anything that doesn’t require maintenance.”
August 13, 2004
August 12, 2004
More Shoots
Chris Radulski is reading Eats, Shoots and Leaves by Lynne Truss, the best seller about punctuation, and the same book I thought I’d get from my local library, except that I was the four hundredth in line. I hope I’m next in line for Chris’s copy. Here, however, is a contrarian view which inspired this defense from the Guardian.
Bertha
One more from the airport. Maley hugs Hil, Robby watches.
View larger image
August 11, 2004
Slimy Surprise
The first day on the job, I taught Chris the fastest way to pass anything is through the air. Ask for a hammer and you better look up because it’ll be sailing in your direction. Need a hand saw? Are your hands free? They better be. Monday we needed to clear one of those upper decks of piles of household junk in order to stain it. I stood above and to the back of the deck, while Chris was below on the ground. Perched on the railing between us were flower pots full of blooming impatiens, which made it impossible to know exactly what was coming before it had sailed over the railing.
“Are you ready?” I don’t always give a warning.
“Yes.”
Into the air I launched a stream of stuff : a rake, a broom, a shovel, a plastic plant container, garden hand tools, towels, two coolers, everything but the chairs and the gas grill. I couldn’t see what was happening down below, but other than one shout of, “Don’t throw the pointy end at me,” I think he caught most of it.
That was not my retribution, oh no.
With the deck clear, and needing to stain the outside railing, we set our long plank on the tops of two ladders - that place with the warning sign, THIS IS NOT A STEP. We climbed up on opposite sides and I spied a long, brown, fat, juicy slug slinking along my end. I picked it up, looked at Chris who had not seen it, and winged it at him. Like a pitcher protecting himself from a line drive he snagged it, hard, at chest height.
Then he opened his hand.
Egdelina
View larger image
I’ve received many emails from fans of the blog (fob’s) asking why I continue to tell stories about Chris, now that Matthew is home. “Sure, we like Chris,” they write, “but let’s hear more about Matt’s trip. ‘Matt on horseback, Matt’s house in Esteli, Matt’s classroom, Matt’s teacher,’ boring, boring, boring. WE NEED MORE DETAILS!’ ” I’d be happy to comply, but here is the deal. I saw Matt on Friday night when he deplaned, I saw him once on Saturday, not at all on Sunday, and briefly on Monday. And that is how it is. Today, he and Daryl are going to Joe’s house in NH, and I won’t see him again until this coming Saturday....maybe. If you want more Matt stories, you have to write and tell him to stay home.
August 10, 2004
Busted
The Bazar Fez is owned by Matt's home stay family.
View larger image
View larger image
The other day, Karen, Chris’s mom, introduced me to a family friend as Chris’s boss. I kinda like the sound of it, but you know times have changed since I was his age. If you told me to do something I’d jump up, salute, click my heels and then run off to complete the task.
Nowadays, I’m reminded of our friend Dan's marriage to Linda. Dan brought one son to the marriage; Linda, two daughters. Her youngest daughter, Rebecca, at maybe five or six, sized-up this new authority figure and said, “You are not the boss of me.” That’s pretty much how it is these days.
“Chris, could you please get the can of brown stain from the back of the truck? If you do I’ll buy lunch and give you a raise”
“What do you think I am? A dog and you’re playing fetch?”
Yeah, I too thought that was a pretty snappy comeback, but I got that last laugh. Tomorrow I'll explain how.
August 09, 2004
Hil's Request
Matt on horseback before galloping through the forests.
View larger image
Two short movies that should be viewable even with dialup connections. The first precedes the second, and the second .....well, go figure.
Language lessons (2.4 MB)
Chicken flap (1.2 MB)
Emma posing with her new Go Kart.
I laughed when I watched Rodd insist Emma wear a helmet, shoes and a seat belt. I stopped laughing moments after she stomped on the accelerator pedal. Here, Diane clears the yard of mosquitoes.
View larger image
August 08, 2004
One on One
Matt's teacher.
View larger image
Matt's classroom for the first week.
August 07, 2004
Gimme Shelter
Matt's home, the house with the balcony, in Esteli.
View larger image
Hil's living room.
Rousing Welcome
The congenial, collaborating, conquering captains of their own destiny, arrived, mostly on time, vivaciously voluble, hiply hirsute, steeped in stories, and full of photos (361 on Matt’s digital camera). Matt looked like his uncle Peter, freshly from a week’s camping trip in the high Sierras, while Hil appeared ready for a magazine cover shoot. Tell me again, why we were ever worried about these two?
From the airport, we (Lew and Jennifer, Maley, and Robby) drove as directly as we could manage to the Village Smokehouse - Hil’s request - and our favorite after MFA stop. There we met Mark and Ginger, who had both been roused from deep sleep to join us, and ordered dinner but minutes before the grill closed at eleven. Home after midnight, and in bed by 2 AM after one long, luxurious, hot shower.
For the moment Diane won't be asking, "I wonder where they are today?"
Maley hugging Matt, while Diane and Jennifer watch dad and daughter embrace.
August 06, 2004
August 05, 2004
Two more from Mateo
Thank you for confirming everything, very helpful.I dont need any of that information really because it is on my tickets and stuff right? just making sure. Thank you for going over it with me though because im sure we could f*** it up if we tried. We were in granada last night, and it is so beautiful. even if there are a few to many tourists for my taste, but whatever, we are two of them. And yes, i am about ready to come home now as well, so you don’t have to worry about us not showing up on that flight. Unless of course our flight is canceled, or bush decides to ban international flights due to terrorist risks (knocks on wood). Anyway, much love but me and hil are off to masaya now. Talk to you soon
MUCH LOVe
mateo
We can’t find a place to buy stamps, and i swear to god we have asked just about ever person we have come by. We asked Ruth (my teacher), she said she didn’t know. We asked david (kid i lived with), said he had never sent mail. We asked hils teacher, the people that lived in my house. people on the street. All of them looked at us as if we were crazy. Anyway, we will keep on trying, but i cant promise anything
Mateo
Caramel Flan
Hi All,
granada really is just the same. when we were with bertha and family they had us try chinchuron (pig skin) and i said i had tried it once before and couldn’t deal with what it was. and while driving through granada we passed the EXACT place i had tried it! with Los Chicos! i tried to tell them that but i don’t know if i got my point across (her parents didn’t speak english fluently, so we spoke in spanish to them).
it’s really quite beautiful here. matt and i went to masaya this afternoon and bought some more presents (we're all done!) he got a hammock for himself, and i bought a hammock chair for renee. they'll be fairly easy to bring home, i hope. together, the three of them cost $37. but matt and i are getting cheap.
me and matt went out to eat at one of the best places ever! La Gran Francia. we got these plantains filled with red beans and cheese. wow, it was just amazing. there was this salsa and sour cream with them. and then he got chicken dijon blue and i got steak with jalapeno peppers (i was going to get a normal chicken breast and then he told me i was being boring. and then i told him he should get the chicken breast and i'd get something else. and so i got the steak. but it took me about 20 minutes to decide on what to get cuz i wasn't sure about the jalapeno sauce, etc., etc. but it was amazing!). for dessert he got chocolate mousse that really just made you want to die so that you could die happy, and i got caramel flan that was good but not as amazing as the chocolate mousse. i asked if we could go back for just the dessert the next night, cuz no where else in nicaragua has desserts (GASP!) and he said it wasn’t that kind of place. it was really quite upscale, with great service. and WATER. normally they don't have a glass of water always filled for you, and you have to order water and a different drink if you want both, and it’s just a pain. but here they had a water glass for you at all times! it was wonderful. and the water was delicious! mwa hahaha.
afterwards we were talking about how expensive it had been. and then we realized that we have just gotten extraordinarily cheap -- the dinner cost $40. for a GOOD dinner, with GREAT service, for TWO people, with WATER, and AMAZING meat and dessert that was delectable.
i told him that when we get back we're going to be like those old people who are like "back in MY day, that only cost a nickel. cackle cackle cackle". he told me i had already made that joke at least 3 times (i had only said it once before, i promise).
i love you all, Hilary
REMEMBER!!!!! PARTY at MY HOUSE, SATURDAY. call my parents if you're gonna come.)
August 04, 2004
Iron Up Her Back
I don't suppose we'll hear from the teenage tourists again until they reach Managua on Thursday.
This follows “More Than a Phone Call” , and I don’t think it stands alone. It’s a phone call I had with my mother about the funeral for the husband of my mother’s friend who shot himself in his living room.
“You went to the service for Alice’s husband”?
“We did. It was a beautiful day, seven o’clock in the evening. Not even hot, no hotter than eighty.
“Where was he buried?”
“The cemetery on Oak Hill Road. It’s out 41, on a hill near Whirlpool?”
“There are no hills near Whirlpool. it must have been past the airport.”
My mother loves it when I tell her she’s mistaken about something she knows is true. I think we might have been arguing perceptions.
Patiently, she answered, “If you turn right near Whirlpool you go up a hill.”
“Whirlpool is as flat as the nearby airport runway... .”
“There were about twenty-five people. The cemetery had only markers, no upright stones, and it was touching to see the children and grandchildren running about, playing. Although my father wouldn’t have allowed it. He said stepping on graves was disrespectful. Alice was wearing a black pant’s suit she bought for the service. She weighs eighty-four pounds and her fitter said she was a size zero. I didn’t know there was such a thing.”
“Eighty-four pounds. How tall is she?”
“Not much taller than I, but she started losing weight when George got cancer.”
“A woman who scrubs the blood of her husband off her carpets. I don’t know...I pictured someone bigger. How about Lisa, the daughter he was so close to?”
“She was still pretty tore up.”
My precise mother never says “tore up,” and she’s probably cringing reading this, but it’s more evocative than “torn up.” She said it this time, so it stays.
“Lisa came with her husband and children. You know I always thought she had gay tendencies, but that’s because she had so closely imitated her father’s mannerisms. She walks like he did.”
“Not to be morbid, but you saw them lower his body into the grave?”
“No, no, he was cremated. They buried his urn next to his daughter’s grave, or they sprinkled his ashes on it. I couldn’t tell from where I sat. You remember that is what they did with Mack’s sister, Joan. Her ashes were placed in the ground next to her mother’s. I don’t know what people will do with me. Not that they will listen to what I want.”
Years ago, not long after her brother died, my mother and I argued about her burial. She wants to be cremated and her ashes flung out to sea, or buried in a garden, or enriched with an emulsion of sunflower seeds and fed to the cardinals - anything but a body in a grave. It’s not lying in dirt, it’s the waste of space, of her burden on the environment. I was adamant. I wanted her in the ground, somewhere I could go and talk to her. I didn’t want to be following some nesting song bird just just to say, “Hi.” It wasn’t too long after this conversation that I decided chasing birds wasn’t so bad.
“We listen, you know we do. We’ll do what you want.”
“Just be sure you play a recording of Tess (Brian’s wife) on the Tabla Drums. It’s hard to get people to do what you want. Alice couldn’t get the minister she wanted for the funeral. You know, they weren’t church going people. But she has iron up her back, she told me, ‘ We’re just going to have to do it ourselves.’ “
August 03, 2004
Surrounded By Bacon
Hey father,
it almost sounds as if i am neglecting you guys in the blog, but no worries, i sent something to make up for it. You have to check mom’s email. We have been having such a great time and since this was our last night in esteli, we went out to a very nice restaraunte with one of the kids from my family. i think i am a little sick again, but ill be fine. I have been sleeping a lot today and don’t feel all that great. Anyway, the time is winding down, and i am definitely looking forward to coming home, although the next few days with be fun since we are just hanging out in granada and masaya. Anyway,
MUCH LOVE
Mateo
********************
Matt,
I blog everything you and Hil send, no matter who it is addressed to. Mom read your latest email - the long one - out loud and we loved it. It seems you and Hil trade being sick - one day it's you and then it's her. So, how much does a real nice restaurant in Esteli cost? And what did you have to eat?
We went out for dinner last night. We used our last Walden Grill gift certificate, sat at the bar and had crab cakes and sirloin tips. It was fun, but we overate, as usual. Then we stopped to see Nana to make sure she was following her doctor’s orders, which she was not. When we arrived, she wasn’t wearing her eye protector because she said it made TV watching difficult. We both threatened her with physical harm until she put it on. We know as soon as we left, off it came.
Love
Dad
********************
haha,
a real nice restaraunte in esteli costs about 14 dollars for three people. And that is not bad if you ask me because it would cost about the same to go to mcdonalds. I had filet mignon, which here involves the steak being surrounded by bacon, omg it was so good. Hil had a different kind of steak and david had fish. It was a nice way to spend our last night. today at around three we leave for granada, hopefully, and we will spend the two days there. I am definitely getting very excited about coming home. it has been a very long trip and i miss people
Anyway
off i go
Much love
Mateo
Luckily Carolina
Hey all,
so thursday after classes i return home to find that the driver that the Cuadros sent is there, and has been since 8 that morning. Apparently this is not even a problem, but i felt pretty bad. The three hour drive was not bad, but hil was feeling pretty sick and had been sick right before we left. When we arrived at their house, we knew that we had underestimated what having money was.... or at least I had, as hil said hmmm i expected their house to be bigger. I have no idea what she was talking about because it was the biggest house in nicaragua that i had ever seen. It had a yard, two maids, and a bunch of drivers. Not only that but gardeners and the such. The maids were the nicest people i've met and they got us drinks and food once we arrived. It turns out that one of them was the nanny of Edgar Cuadro when he was a child. (Edgar Cuadro being the father of the family). Bertha and Edgard were still in school at that point, but they arrived home soon after. Once Bertha arrived she told us we were going to go the presidential building and have our pictures taken with the president. We insisted that this was not necessary, but Bertha said that her mother thought it was. So off we went with one of the drivers to the presidential building, we stopped on the way to pick up Carolina, the second youngest sister. Once we arrived and were in the first security building, one of the guards asked bertha for ID, she responded by saying that she was pissed off he would even ask and brushed past him. At this point hillary says ¨I am going to be sick¨, and bertha says ¨No don't do that¨Luckily Carolina showed hil to the bathroom where she became abruptly sick. I just found it kinda amusing and thought that that can not happen too often in the building. Once inside we were brought to the office of the mother, who is the party planner for the president. Planning all the occasions and being a kind of people person for the president. We were asked if we wanted anything to eat or drink about a hundred times. Always saying that we were fine, but muchos gracias. After that we were brought to the weighting room for the president who turns out to be a very nice guy. We got our pictures taken with him and talked for a little while. After that the mother gave us a tour of the whole building which was very cool. We were basically the only people there. We stopped in the kitchen to get a drink and one of the better sandwiches i've had. After that we headed back to the Cuadros house, where we hung out for the rest of the night. The next day we went to the Mall with edgard, who is 16 and a very cool kid. We came back to the house, had dinner and then Bertha tells us that we are going out with her and a bunch of her friends. At about eight, we are picked up by the driver of one of her friends, and we go around picking up more people than you would believe can fit in an SUV, 12 not including the driver. It was edgard me hilly and 9 other girls. Two of whom were from the states. One from penn. and the other from good old texas. Anyway, we went to a club named Aqua where we hung out, talked and danced. It was a pretty good night over all and hil got hit on by the ex-presidents son. The son of Aleman. So all in all it was pretty interesting. The next morning at about 6 we got up and left for San Juan del Sur. Where they have yet another beautiful house on this hill, the only downside is there were more stairs than i ever want to see again. They live on a private beach in this private little community... did i mention the maid came with us, well she did. We hung out there, and swam and just took it easy. A very relaxing time. And the food was so good. So good, it was some very good meat and i couldn't believe our luck at finding these friendly people. The next day we hung out for part of the day, swam and ate. After that we packed up and headed back to managua. We hung out at the house, ordered some Pizza Hut pizza, which was soooo good and something i haven't had in a while and i played Halo with edgard. Then this morning, we had a driver take us to the bus station, and then took the bus back here, just in time for about an hour of school. Over all the weekend was great, and was a definite high point of the trip. Thank you very much to the Cuadros. Tomorrow is our last day in Esteli, i am packing up tonight, and we leave at 3 tomorrow afternoon. Tonight we are going out to dinner, and then tomorrow we are off to granada. It looks like a very beautiful city, and we have made reservations at this hotel that also has the best ice cream, the Cuadros recommended the hotel on our way back from San Juan, when we also stopped to sample this ice cream, and pick up Nacatamales, which are a great nicaraguense breakfast. We are spending two nights in Granada, but we are going to take a day trip to Massaya, which should be fun, and then we are going to head back to Managua, where we will stay at the quaker house and then we leave friday morning. The trip is winding down fast, and we will be back at the end of the week. Although i am sad to be leaving this beautiful country, i am also kind of glad. It has been a long trip and i miss my friends. I also think that we have accomplished what we needed to, being able to carry on conversations in spanish... most of the time. Anyway, i will email again before the trip is done.
Much love to all
Mateo
August 02, 2004
Instead, They Phoned
After a long conversation late last night with both Hil and Matt from Bertha’s house, with Bertha laughing and her dog yelping in the background, that included a long string of how great this is and how much fun that was, I asked, “So Matt, tell me exactly what incentive do you have to come home?
“None,” he replied, and then launched into, “Dad, we got to meet the president of Nicaragua in his building, and when the security guard asked for identification, Bertha just laughed at him and kept walking, and we were the only ones there, and Hil’s vomiting was Hilarious, and we’re having pizza tonight and they have the only yard we’ve seen so far, and ... .”
We’ll all be at the airport Friday night. Will they?
And Day Brought Back My Night
It was so simple: you came back to me
and I was happy. Nothing seemed to matter
but that. That you had gone away from me
and lived for days with him-- it didn’t matter.
That I had been left to care for our old dog
and house alone--couldn’t have mattered less!
On all this, you and I and our happy dog
agreed. We slept. The world was worriless.
I woke in the morning, brimming with old joys
till the fact-checker showed up, late, for work
and started in: Item: it’s years, not days.
Item: you had no dog. Item: she isn’t back,
in fact, she just remarried. And oh yes, item: you
left her, remember? I did? I did. (I do.)
Geoffrey Brock
Chris’s parents took us to see The Finn Brothers (formerly Crowded House), Martin Sexton, and Angela McCluskey last Saturday night. There was an attractive couple in front of us who danced next to their chairs, but were prevented from using the wide open spaces next to us by the ever present security guards. Absurd.
View larger image
August 01, 2004
Write Home
"Where are those kids? It's 5:30, shouldn't they be back in Esteli at their stations?"
If there are any blog readers who have heard from the wandering wonders, please leave a comment.
Chris is away at baseball camp and will return for one week of work before he leaves again, this time for trips to Ohio and the Cape with his parents. I figure I have maybe two more stories involving Chris, and this one, which will put most people who are not blood relatives to sleep, is one of my favorites.
For two weeks, we hammered, cut, pried, smashed and sometimes bled, removing all the water-damaged wood from the side of the building. Finally, we began to reassemble what we had torn away. Thursday we nailed clapboards, and Friday when we arrived, I had hoped to continue. However, we found yet more rotted wood, this a heavy timber called a header that formed the supporting member above a window. I desperately wanted to continue the simple task of cutting the clapboards while Chris nailed. I didn’t want to breathe in more dead carpenter ant bodies, or be showered with hot nail filings as we sawed out the offending pieces.
Chris had other ideas.
“Let’s finish with the rotted wood.”
“No, we can work around it.”
“But if we do that, we’ll have to backtrack.”
“But not much. I need a break. I want to do the fun stuff.”
I was also worrying, given how hard we’d been working and how restless my nights, that I was too tired to know if we’d adequately supported the interior ceiling. Each supporting member we chopped away threatened the stability of the wall. On its own, the two stories had sagged to form a dip in the kitchen’s hardwood floor.
Chris, an accomplished hammerer, continued, “If we finish it today, we won’t have to do it Monday.”
At some point I began asking myself the same thing you are. Who is the boss and who is the worker? Who’s the parent; who is the child? How did this child become so responsible?
I weakened.
“All right. Okay. I give. But grant me one wish. Let’s first finish those clapboards ( I pointed to a space between the sliding door and the window). Then we can tear out the header and hope the building doesn’t collapse.
“If we don’t start now, we won’t finish by the end of the day.”
From last night's concert at the Fleet Pavilion.
View larger image