Infinite Summer

Summer's coming to a close - I know this now, but for weeks I've been in denial.

I ignore the "Back to School" commercials because they start about 3 days after the school year ends anyway. They're selling Halloween decorations at the local grocery store. I almost created a scene after I walked by a display and commented on how ridiculous it was. My comment may have contained some expletives - but you'd have to prove that first.

After taking a walk through my neighborhood, I chose to overlook the disappearance of the purple and pink petunias; replaced by orange and red chrysanthemums. I pretended I couldn't hear the nightly concert given by the cicadas in my yard and convinced myself that the days weren't getting shorter. I had my first "teacher dream". Those of you who are not in that field could probably relate if I told you that it's similar to those dreams you would get as a child on Sunday nights before school would start, or the "I have a presentation to make for work tomorrow" dreams. For those of you who are teachers, or ever have been...you know what I mean.

So I decided that I would create an infinite summer in my mind. I know that sounds all new-agey and trippy - but bear with me. I have the gulf coast on the screen saver of my phone - and that's where it will stay. I can look at it every time I answer it, even when it's snowing - it'll be there. I made a promise to myself to leave my job at my job when I come home this year. As much as I will hold the summer in my heart, I am going to make a concerted effort to be exactly where I am at every moment of my life - not worrying about meetings or mandates or anything else the moment I leave my job for the day. The kids in my class - that's a different story - I have a place for them inside my heart all of the time - but the other stuff...I'm letting it go.

I learned a lot this summer....about who I am, who I used to be and how to blend the two to create the person I want to be now. I made a great deal of progress on my book. I began to take better care of my health - realizing that it's an investment I deserve. I realized that my older child is beginning the move away from childhood towards young adulthood - and instead of being sad about it, I'm in awe of how much I admire the person he's becoming. My youngest will need more of me now that she's begun the early tumultuous years of adolescence. I'm going to be there to make it as easy as possible - not sitting behind my desk.

Most people make New Year's resolutions - but teachers make school year resolutions. Mine is to live in the moment but be reflective in all that I do. Take it slow even while others race by doing, accumulating, and competing. Seek balance in all the roles I play, but define myself by the ones that matter most. And keep a promise to myself to never lose the slow, peaceful and warm infinite summer in my mind.

Photo courtesy of socksoff.co.uk

Cell Memory and a Gift from my Father

Some people live through their physicality - they're in tune with their bodies, can push them to their limits, enjoy the confidence that comes in doing without thought - trusting themselves to let go of the body-mind connection. There's a freedom in that, perhaps it's almost something mystical. I see it in dancers, in athletes,in gymnasts, even in children at play.

I used to dive. I still remember what it feels like to vault yourself off a board, fly into the air, bend from the waist, touch your toes and straighten out just in time to slice into the water without as much as a splash. I remember the feeling of spinning through the air - forwards, backwards...never doubting that I'd land it. A confidence quite unnatural for me.It was the only athletic thing I ever liked, and the only one I was ever good at before the spine surgery.

It made me better...it saved my life. I was 15. I was very lucky. I'm still grateful for it today. I'm very capable and through the years nobody except those closest to me would notice how I compensate. As I became older I forged my way developing types of skills that were cerebral, emotional, or analytical...not physical.

It's only that a few days ago, for a brief moment, I remembered. I had access to an empty pool and was doing laps, trying to remember all the types of strokes my father, the former lifeguard at Jones Beach in Long Island, had taught me as a child. He could've been an Olympic swimmer, but he had responsibilities and those dreams weren't designed for blue collar Bronx immigrant families. He'd taught me to swim, to dive, to respect the water. He was an expert scuba diver as well. He'd tried to join the Navy when he was younger, but they turned him down for a heart condition. All he ever wanted was the water.

I remember watching him at our community pool. He'd wait on line at the diving board and than effortlessly perform acrobatics that would stun everyone watching. Then he'd go back to his chair and his book like nothing had happened. He could go years between doing things like that. Maybe that's what cell memory is. He'll be 70 years old tomorrow and even after a quadruple bypass and a replaced aortic valve - I wouldn't be surprised if he could still get up there and do it.

For a moment last week, I remembered. The freedom, the rush, the absence of thought - just action. It's in my cell memory, but for me that's where it will have to stay. It was a gift from my Dad that maybe I can't use anymore, but it's in there. Just as much as my love and appreciation for a humble gifted athlete who turns 70 tomorrow.

A man who gave up the ocean to support a family and raise a little girl.

Paradise On Earth

Southwest Florida is beyond words - I've never been here before. I've done the requisite Disney, Orlando trips with my children - but this is a different world.

The beach, the views, the palm trees, the sea breezes, great people, serenity - I wrote more here than I have in weeks. The problem is, I don't want to leave. I want to ship everyone I know down here to come be with me!

I will promise myself to read this over when it's 20 degrees and I'm scraping ice off the window of my car, when the windchill factor is below 0, when I have to get up at 5 am and turn on the heat, gripping a cup of coffee waiting for the caffeine to penetrate my brain. I wonder how far it is to commute to upstate New York to work from here each day?

Obviously I've gotten too much sun and my brain is fried. Sigh.

Great Writer Debuts New Website: Nina Killham

Check out my friend Nina's new website!

http://www.ninakillham.com

Better than that - check out some of her books. It's hard to decide which one is my favorite so I came to the conclusion that I love them all for different reasons.

It's a rare writer that can make you laugh in the middle of a murder mystery, and cry in the middle of a comedy - and in the end make you wish there were more pages to turn. I love Nina and so will you.

Writer on a Vampire Schedule

I always thought that vampires sleep during the day and do their vampiring activities during the night. Apparently this isn't the case because I've recently seen Eclipse, (and also read the entire Twilight Series), and those vampires go to high school, hang out around town and basically do everything humans do during the day except that they glitter in the sun. I do know some humans that seem to glitter. I am not one of them.

I am however, on the 1970's vampire schedule. It's the way it has to be if I ever want to get this second book done. It's in the early stages right now and for some reason I couldn't get my mojo going like I did with the last one. That's when I realized that I was trying to write during the day...getting up at a normal hour and going to bed before midnight. I suppose that's what well adjusted, organized, normal writers do.

Again, like the people who glitter. I am not like that.

Early evening the words flow, faster as the night progresses. I try to make it to bed by 2 am so I can also be functional for my kids during the day - and so far it's working out okay. So, I guess I'm not ever going to be one of those well adjusted, organized types - at least not during the summer.

I'm on an old-school vampire schedule.

photo of Al Lewis. 1923-2006. My favorite vampire.

An Ode to the Class of 2010

Tomorrow is their last day.

So, they will dress up in costumes, spray each other with water pistols and dance in the hallways.

They'll fight authority with colorful streamers and face paint.

They'll chase each other around, dive onto the slip and slide on the front lawn, and maybe even start a spontaneous parade. They'll cheer and chant and tell everyone that they can't wait to get out of here - all at the same time wondering what happens next.

And then they'll stop. They'll pour over their yearbooks and remember when. They'll give me hugs and ask me to never forget them. I'll tell them I never will, and I'll mean it.

They'll tell stories about those times in 3rd grade when they played kickball at recess, the crazy sleep-overs where nobody ever slept, and they'll remember the first time they stepped into the high school. It seemed so big then, and everyone there even bigger. They'll realize - some for the very first time - that you can want something and fear it at the same time. In the back of their minds a little voice will tell them it's time to grow up just a little bit. (I would advise them to ignore that voice for a while).

There will be hugs and laughter. There will be tears.

And some of them will be mine.

My Driveway's in Jail

Yes, I did just say that. It's even in the newspaper.

Actually, it's not my entire driveway, that would be ridiculous! Who's ever heard of an entire driveway going to jail? Well, maybe in Canada - out in the lawless North Country or something, but not here.

To be accurate, it's not even my driveway as much as it's a piece of a of a wall adjacent to my driveway. I live on the bottom of a hill. A retaining wall of paver stones holds up part of my landscaping - my rare collection of poison ivy, poison oak and some pachysandra that got in there somehow.

They arrested my paving stone. And I wasn't even home to see the action. It made the news here in the rollicking non-stop mecca of excitement where I live. The problem is; my paving stone is no longer just a paving stone. It's now evidence. So, it currently

resides in a police station, in a bag, longing for its brother and sister paving stones. Maybe I'll visit it in jail tomorrow.

Here is the article, edited a bit to protect the not-so-innocent.

TEEN ASSAULT SUSPECT LINKED TO GANG: COPS

NEW YORK — Police say that a Village teenager who has been charged with two assaults this month is tied to attempts to organize gang activity in the village.

Dummy 1, 19, was charged Sunday with second-degree assault, weapons possession, criminal mischief and reckless endangerment.

Police say Dummy 1 threw a paving stone through a window at the Hillman Avenue home of Dummy 2, 22. When Dummy 2 pursued Dummy 1, Dummy 2 was stabbed and suffered minor injuries.

Dummy 1 and Random Dummy, 28, of the Village, were both charged with assault in an incident earlier this month.

"We've been having a lot of ongoing issues between Dummies and their friends," said Sgt. Mr. Man, noting there have also been baseball bat fights in the past week.

Dummy 1 was sent to County Jail on $100,000 cash bail and is scheduled to appear Wednesday in Village Court.

Monopoly Go to Jail Card copyright Hasbro.

Mother's Day

My daughter gave me a copy of this photo in a frame this morning. She said "I know you miss your Mommy, so this is from her."

She's so thoughtful...puts a lot of thought into any gift she gives, from a souvenir she brings home for her friend from Florida to things like this. She remembers her a little. She was in 1st grade when my Mom died. A few years before, I remember her sleeping on my Mom's couch early in the morning and woke up to find my mother looking over at her watching her sleep. It had taken a lot of effort to get out of bed and into the wheelchair by herself without waking anyone. I looked at them. They looked so much alike. It was as though my DNA had skipped a generation and my daughter ended up almost as a clone of my Mom. She was lucky.

My mother looked up at me and had an unusual expression on her face. It wasn't really sad, I think if I had to find a word for it, it would be acceptance.

"Look at her sleeping, she looks like a little woman. It's a shame I won't get to see her grow up."

I told her not to talk that way, that of course she would see her grow up, but my Mom smiled at me and said. "Of course honey. I know." She knew the truth. I refused to accept it.

I watch my daughter growing more each day. She's getting so tall, so feminine. I don't think she realizes how beautiful she is. Anyone who looks at her comments on it but she doesn't seem to notice it herself. She's kind and thoughtful, methodical and meticulous. She's quick to forgive but slow to forget. Her humor's so dry that people don't expect it from such a little girl. Sometimes they walk away confused - that's okay, they'll get it later. She's so much like my Mother that it makes me question nature vs. nurture - I'm leaning toward nature.

If the gods continue to smile upon me, I'll get to see her grow up. I just hope that my Mom was wrong.

I hope she's watching too.

It's There...

It's there...in the back of my mind. When I'm sitting at a meeting at work, (and let me tell you...there have been a lot of meetings lately.). When I'm making dinner. When I'm ordering Chinese Food because I'm too tired to make dinner. When I'm falling asleep, the first few moments in the morning when I'm having my coffee and enjoying a moment of solitude...it's there. It's telling me...

"It's time to sit down and get back to work. We have stories to tell and you're not letting us out. There are words waiting to play. Come on now...we've been waiting and enough is enough!"

It's time to write. It's not just something I want to do. I need to do it. I can usually wait until the last day of school, when I come home that first day of summer vacation in the late morning and immediately go out to my back deck and pour a huge glass of ice water and open my laptop - and then I'm free. I write and write until it's dark. Then I come inside and write some more, sometimes until it's light outside again. I take the necessary breaks to drive children to camp/friends/ice cream stands/movies and then later pick up those children from camp/friends, ice cream stands/movies. I try to make healthier meals than I do during the school year when I'm so exhausted that I sometimes wonder how much longer I can physically handle my job. I'm a Mom. I see dear friends I don't get the chance to catch up with during the year. I pay more attention to my pets, catch up with my Dad, make snacks for children's sleepovers...but mostly...I write. I sleep in short intervals from about 3 am to 7 am. I have dark circles under my eyes. I don't dry my hair and it turns into a wavy wild mess. But I'm happy!

The problem is that this year, the stories are banging at the door - demanding to get out - and I still have about six weeks left until I can really let them loose. I'll go to bed now since it's past 11 pm and I have to get up at 5 am - but before I fall asleep I'll probably do some plotting in my mind. That appeases them for a bit. I'll watch everyone I see and wonder why they do what they do. I'll observe and file away my thoughts for a few more weeks. When I was a child I loved Harriet the Spy. I WAS Harriet the Spy (minus the affluent neighborhood). Louise Fitzhugh knew exactly how to describe a girl with a driving need to write down everything she saw and thought. When her notebooks were taken away, she was lost. I'm like that with my laptop...like Harriet without her notebook.

Six more weeks. It can't come soon enough.

Boys

Last week my husband and daughter went on vacation. They love theme parks and roller coasters - my daughter especially. Actually, love would be an understatement. She worships them. They're the screen savers on her computer. She watches YouTube videos of roller coasters across America so she can figure out which one she wants to go on next. For her, this was more than a vacation. It was a pilgrimage.

It was also a great opportunity for me to spend some time with my 16 year old son. He was my first, and for the first three years of his life - it was just us three. Sometimes it seemed more like just the two of us since my husband was working so many hours to make up for the loss of my income so I could stay home for as long as possible. Of course then - he was just a little guy. He and his best friend would spend countless hours battling with light sabers in what seemed like an eternal Star Wars episode. That was many years ago and those light sabers have moved from three different houses, been saved from bulk trash pick up day by me more than twice, and now stashed in the back of the garage. Yes, they were toys he had grown out of, but to me they represented a time when life was simpler - when a trip to the toy store could fix anything.

I wasn't ready to give them up. I kept them for me, I know that.

He's different now. He's learning to drive. His voice is so deep I hardly recognize him on the phone. His friends came over to hang out. The living room became their base of operations. They played guitar, video games, went out to get Pizza, and had long philosophical conversations about music. They laughed a lot. They fell asleep sprawled all over the place. Even the couch wasn't long enough for any of them.

After most of the boys had left, I heard some running around downstairs so I came down to see who was still here. That was when I saw my son and his friend - dueling with light sabers. They stopped short, looked at me and said "We can explain this." to which I responded. "There's nothing to explain. Whose winning, red or green?"

One said "RED!" The other said "GREEN!" and they took off around the corner.

Later on, when I was putting away some clean laundry, I saw that my son had placed the light sabers in his closet, leaning them against the back wall. I thought that was best. This way he'll know where they are when he needs them the next time.

I wasn't the only one not ready to give them up.