O and I decided we needed a diversion, actually I decided I needed a diversion, something to get my mind away from what I was thinking, what was on my mind. Baseball, it is the space in between which takes us off our worries, for even a moment.
Baseball. I remember going to watch my home team, the Astros, play games indoors in the Astrodome. I’ve since moved away from home and my team has moved out of the Astrodome, but I am still a fan. I still pull for my Astros, though I have lost the connection to the ‘stros and I don’t get out to the ballpark as much as I used to; I still try to take in a game when I can.
It happened last week, a week ago today. The crew came and cut down our tree. The Ash tree. She had been in front of our home for as long we’d lived here. She was here before we moved in, before the kids were born, and before we got Ivy. She shaded our front lawn without fail, never complaining. I’d raked her leaves for 22 years, I’d trimmed her branches – before she got too tall, and then, she got sick. I didn’t notice at first but this spring she didn’t leaf out along with the other trees –the maples, the oaks, the willows, and others. She had always been a late bloomer and the first to shed her leaves in the fall. But, when she did leaf out she looked sickly; a green branch here, a green branch there, interspersed amid many sickly dead grey branches. Then the crews came, first with their paint marking other trees in the neighborhood, they left a faint red dot at the her base. Then they came back with their ropes, saws, grinders, and trucks. They had many trees to cut down – we counted over seventy stumps in the neighborhood. Ours was one of the last to come down, but she came down anyway. The stump is still there as a reminder of where she once stood. This morning, I looked closely and I could see the stump sending out a couple of shoots in a desperate gasp to survive. It’s too late, our tree is gone.
I’ve been watching the World Cup. My dad would be proud. I do not follow soccer; I mean football and can only recognize the player’s names because my students wear their jerseys – Messi, Rooney, Dempsey, Ronaldo, and Beckham. I know a couple of those players are retired. Nevertheless, I am watching. It’s Father’s Day morning and there is calm throughout the house. I am back outside in my garden office, Ivy at my feet guarding the yard from intruders. I started indoors this morning with Ivy under the table at my feet there, too, but I decided to move outside and enjoy the morning.
Last night I checked Facebook and discovered a high school friend had posted a picture of him and his dad. The looked exactly as I remembered them. Most of my photos of dad are ‘old school’ and I have not transferred them over to digital, yet. The day will come, though a few years ago I went through slides and photos at my mom’s house and came across the photo below. I scanned it and saved it for all of us. I think mom has the original, but I have the copy. I skimmed through the flash drive and found a photo of dad and I. My brothers came along for the ride, too. I posted it with my Happy Father’s day message. I hope they appreciate the trip down memory lane.
Christmas 1978 – Reading, England – Warren, David, dad with Sambo, and me
This morning, I went back in time and re-read old posts. They links are below. Father’s Day 2010 is raw and real and Father’s Day comes early is one of my favorite posts. I can close my eyes and remember the sounds, smells, and events of that day four years ago.
Father’s day is early this year, early in June, as early as it gets. The first of June was a Sunday and Father’s Day is the third Sunday in June; it’s the way the calendar works. The mind works in completely different ways.
Today brings back many memories – some good, some not so good, but memories that have shaped me. Shaped me into the person that I have become.
My dad was my dad, he was shaped by the events of his life and he gave what he could. He, like me, had his regrets, just as I have many. I also have many triumphs as a dad. It’s easy to get bogged down in the ‘shoulda, coulda, woulda game,’ very easily. It’s negativity, man – so, I won’t. This morning I will remember my dad for what he shared, what he taught me; and to laugh, smile, weep.
I am enjoying a lovely morning on the deck; the wind gently rustles the leaves above me, the birds chirp and flit about. It is a bit on the cool side, 56°F, but it will warm up, eventually. I am the eternal optimist, besides I have coffee to keep me warm. The wind chime emits an occasional ‘ding.’
It’s quiet this morning. Ivy is beside me, at my feet, or was until she heard something and stalked off to investigate. B is in Ohio with her mom and dad. W is at off-season sports camp, and O is sleeping. I hope that she’ll sleep for a couple of hours and get the rest she needs. We were supposed to follow this afternoon, but we will not. We’ll need to figure another time to head over and visit. We need to.
Sometimes you just have to pull over and take time and breathe.
“The best and most beautiful things in this world cannot be seen or even heard, but must be felt with the heart.” Helen Keller (1880-1968); Author, Lecturer, Activist
I was up north for the weekend. I drove north Friday night and came home, reluctantly, Sunday evening. Saturday was busy. It was full of chores and full of pulling in air, something I desperately needed. Saturday afternoon, I slow-cooked a pork butt on the grill and made my famous cucumber and red onion salad, at least it’s famous to me. It tastes like summer. I sliced off some pork slathering it with BBQ sauce Continue reading Roadside beach→
There is always room. Whether it’s a home, shelter, or an eave. There is room.
“After all, what’s a life, anyway? We’re born, we live a little while, we die.” ― E.B. White, Charlotte’s Web
I am Up North for a couple of days. Jobs that needed to be done. I wanted to come up in May and couldn’t. Last weekend, fell through with much to do and too little time. Next weekend is filled, and the weekend after that… well, you get the picture. Room has more than one meaning.
Today’s post is in response to the prompt at the Daily Post’s Weekly Photo Challenge at Word Press. ‘This week’s prompt is “Room.” From the four walls that currently surround you to the infinite potential of space, this week we’d like you to show us your take on room, rooms, or a room.’
I have four walls; but others like the dear spider use two walls and imagines the other two. We are all constrained by nature and defined by it as well. There’s always room. I think Charlotte said it best….”what’s a life anyway…” It’s what is in between those two events that is important. It’s the way we leave our mark. It’s our service to our family, friends, and community. It’s how we leave our room.
I came up to work, not blog and I have a list a mile long, maybe even longer. School finished for my students yesterday and I could hear Alice Cooper wailing away in the background. I don’t have papers to grade, but I have chores to do and I have room on my schedule. Making the Days Count, one day at a time.
Sometimes, the difference between winning and losing is a split-second.
Saturday morning softball. The batter hits the ball hard to the shortstop, she scoops the ball into her glove, and fires to the first baseman. Out. Yet, it’s not that simple. There are some many opportunities for a bobble, a misstep, an error, a mistake. All split-seconds.
all it takes is a split second, the difference between out or safe. .. a split second
It’s that time of the year, again. There are two weeks left before summer vacation. Nine school days. Summer vacation would’ve been sooner, but we had the brutal winter with sub-zero temperatures and excruciating wind chills. Four school days closed twice for two days and days were moved from June to January to make up. There is nothing like summer vacation days in January. My students are working hard and last week it was clear they knew exactly how many days remained; some even knew down to the hour and minute.
It is here. Spring has arrived, after what seems like an incredibly long winter.
Every year, we visit the Daffodil Glade at the Morton Arboretum for a family photo shoot. It started innocently enough in 2004. Ten years ago, after church, we decided to take in a drive through the Morton Arboretum. It was Easter Sunday, we had our camera and we decided to stop at the Daffodil Glade and shoot some photos. B with the kids among the daffodils, the kids by themselves, or together, regardless it was a beautiful morning. We took some incredible photos that morning. We came back the next year and had similar results. Wonderful photos, memories of children growing, and blossoming like the daffodils. Since that morning, it’s become one of our family traditions, one of our milestones. It’s our sign that spring is here. We’ve missed a couple of years but we have photos and memories going back to 2004.
looking closely you can read it – OBJECTS ARE CLOSER THAN THEY APPEAR
I looked at my calendar last week and was stupefied that May was so close. It felt like the wording on the passenger-side side-view mirror: OBJECTS IN MIRROR ARE CLOSER THAN THEY APPEAR. I suppose it is a lesson, which I need to heed more often. I have a habit of letting things creep up on me; it is along the same lines as not reading the fine print or asking for directions. I asked myself how it happened, but I already knew the answer. Ferris Beuller said it best, “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop look around once in a while you could miss it.” Life does move fast and sometimes the only thing you can do is look around.
I’ve been looking around a lot lately. My seventh grade ELA students finished their Mask and Identity unit and we are now on The Road to Perseverance unit to finish the year. There are four units – one for each quarter. The bad weather days in January messed up the schedule and we finished the third unit in the fourth quarter and started the final unit a few days late, hence my ‘closer than they appear’ observation. It has been a good year. The students have been great and I will miss them, but I won’t miss all of them because I found out after Easter that I’ll be moving with them to eighth grade. After fourteen years in seventh grade, I finally was promoted!
