45

Three cheers for G, the leader of our band,

the peach in our pie,

the ink in my pen,

the twinkle in my eye,

the beat of my heart.

45 today.

{p.s. All of my sentiments on other birthdays still apply, too: 43, 42, 41}

. . .

1. yes, he's a studly scout and always prepared. I love that he apparently forgot to take off his shoes before his pants.

2. this is how I first knew him, as a big-brother-type protector and friend in high school, laughing from the back of the bus

3. Woo-woo! Rocking the short shorts on a 50 mile hike.

4. I love it when people remark how much Sam looks like G. As templates go, G is a pretty marvelous one.

Love note

I enjoyed this letter that was featured yesterday on Letters of Note. Since I have a daughter with a bit of a sad heart this week, I thought I'd post it here. I like to think of it as John Steinbeck's version of liner notes, writing about love to his son Thom who was away at school.

. . .

New York
November 10, 1958

Dear Thom:

We had your letter this morning. I will answer it from my point of view and of course Elaine will from hers.

First—if you are in love—that’s a good thing—that’s about the best thing that can happen to anyone. Don’t let anyone make it small or light to you.

Second—There are several kinds of love. One is a selfish, mean, grasping, egotistical thing which uses love for self-importance. This is the ugly and crippling kind. The other is an outpouring of everything good in you—of kindness and consideration and respect—not only the social respect of manners but the greater respect which is recognition of another person as unique and valuable. The first kind can make you sick and small and weak but the second can release in you strength, and courage and goodness and even wisdom you didn’t know you had.

You say this is not puppy love. If you feel so deeply—of course it isn’t puppy love.

But I don’t think you were asking me what you feel. You know better than anyone. What you wanted me to help you with is what to do about it—and that I can tell you.

Glory in it for one thing and be very glad and grateful for it.

The object of love is the best and most beautiful. Try to live up to it.

If you love someone—there is no possible harm in saying so—only you must remember that some people are very shy and sometimes the saying must take that shyness into consideration.

Girls have a way of knowing or feeling what you feel, but they usually like to hear it also.

It sometimes happens that what you feel is not returned for one reason or another—but that does not make your feeling less valuable and good.

Lastly, I know your feeling because I have it and I’m glad you have it.

We will be glad to meet Susan. She will be very welcome. But Elaine will make all such arrangements because that is her province and she will be very glad to. She knows about love too and maybe she can give you more help than I can.

And don’t worry about losing. If it is right, it happens—The main thing is not to hurry. Nothing good gets away.

Love,

Fa

. . .

Speaking of love, I am pretty giddy to hear that Once (remember how much I loved the movie?) is opening as a musical on Broadway next month. I predict an adventure to the big city in the next few months. Anyone want to join me? Though as my friend Jen noted, we will miss Glen Hansard and his lovely Irish voice.

I have never

This* found a tender spot in me today and I wanted to pass it along in case you found it as lovely as I did, whether you think of it as a love letter from your mama or a lullaby for your babies:

I have never loved someone the way I love you 
I have never seen a smile like yours 
And if you grow up to be king or clown or pauper 
I will say you are my favorite one in town 

I have never held a hand so soft and sacred 
When I hear your laugh I know heaven’s key 
And when I grow to be a poppy in the graveyard 
I will send you all my love upon the breeze 

And if the breeze won’t blow your way, I will be the sun 
And if the sun won’t shine your way, I will be the rain 
And if the rain won’t wash away all your aches and pains 
I will find some other way to tell you you’re okay

*My mom sent me the link to this beautiful song today, written and sung by My Brightest Diamond (Shara Worden) for her son. According to the notes by the filmmaker, "After the concert I finally dared to ask her what I wanted to ask her that morning, to sing us this lullaby that struck me down. It’s Sunday morning, a morning of hangovers. The whole hotel seems suspended in the air. We ask her to get to the bar, to make it sing for her, to sing for her son (for whom she had written this song). We erase ourselves. She, she doesn’t. After we're done filming, I cry. She cries too."

She found it on Krista Tippets' On Being blog, which I LOVE.

Madeleine, 16

Sixteen things about Maddy in honor of her 16th birthday:

When she was little she didn't really speak until she could do whole sentences. Until then, Lauren did the talking for her or she mmmm'ed. (Example. I'd ask: "Maddy, do you want to sit here or over there?" She would mmmm back the answer: mmm  mmm  mmmm [three syllables=over there].)  She had everyone worried: the pediatrician, the early intervention folks, the speech therapist. And then the word dam burst and she regaled us non-stop. When she was good and ready.

Instead of "yes," when she was very young she said "aye" like a Scottish lass.

She had an important imaginary friend named Wendy.

When she was three, she was obsessed with the Wizard of Oz and Charlotte's Web.

She desperately wanted Sam's name to be Wilbur.

The day after Sam came home from the hospital, she brought me her binkies and diapers and said "I'm a big girl now. I don't need these." Just like that.

When she was about 7, she was obsessed with the Underground Railroad and Harriet Tubman. She wanted to have an Underground Railroad birthday party. With her encouragement (insistence) we visited the Harriet Tubman homestead as part of our family vacation.

When she was about 10, she was obsessed with World War II and the holocaust. Sometimes I had to do some explaining after playdates when the friend would excitedly tell her parent at pickup time, "We played Holocaust!"

She's a picky eater. Most of her daily intake rotates with a food cast of bananas, potatoes, toast, caesar salad, carrots, cucumbers, pasta, butter, bacon, oatmeal, and cereal. I rejoice when she admits a new food choice to her reportoire, especially if it is colorful. (For her birthday dinner this year, she requested salad, twice-baked potatoes, and rolls. And a lemon meringue pie.)

She has a tender heart and loves a good cry. Whether she's talking about her school reading assignment in  Romeo and Juliet or watching a movie with any emotional element, the tears flow. (I think she finds it cathartic, which I totally understand. Let's just say she comes by it honestly.)

She has a long fuse but you know for certain when she's reached the end of it.

She's very observant and will always be the first to notice a new haircut, a tear-blotched face, or the fact you've had several doctors appointments lately.

She knows what she wants and goes after it with gusto and good, hard, incremental effort.

She hides struggles, hurts, disappointments and insecurities with a deceptive cheerfulness.

She has high hopes and aims accordingly, even if those high hopes every once in a while lead to disappointment (see above).

She has a pied piper quality and has friends of all types and ages. She's just honestly delighted by connecting with people, especially kids. One of my friends recently mentioned that when her young daughters play make-believe they take turns with their favorite roles: one pretends to be a princess and the other pretends to be Maddy. :)

Here's to our Maddy girl and a great year ahead. We're so lucky to have her in our family.

Special.

When I first returned to grad school, I remember that I had visions of emulating Mr. Rogers. Not his fame. Not even really his medium of puppetry and television. Just his wholehearted authenticity and work to make the world a better place for children.

I'd kind of forgotten of that inspiration lately so I was delighted to read these letters this morning, via my daily treat read of a site, Letters of Note:

letters via the fabulous Letters of Note

What a remarkable exchange, especially knowing that it was probably replicated hundreds, thousands of times with other young and old correspondents. Just brim-full with compassion and...namaste.  It reminded me to look up one of my all-time favorite articles, a 1998 profile of Fred Rogers in Vanity Fair magazine (reposted here; you might want to know there are a couple of profanities).

Indulge me with another favorite (I think I posted this before but I can't find it for sure).  I dare you to watch it and take the 10 second challenge he issues. 

I can't be Mr. Rogers. I'm just not that guy, not that good or thoroughly guileless, don't have the sweaters or the single-focused discipline. 

Over time my interests have evolved to be oriented more around parents than children. But this morning I realized I still take a great dose of inspiration from him. I think parents (everyone, really) experience processes of development and growth and change in their roles with accompanying emotions and challenges that can be equally bewildering and novel. Mr. Rogers's preschooler friends are not the only ones trying to figure out their world and thirsty to know they are known, understood, and supported. We don't outgrow that.

So, in honor of Mr. Rogers, I'd like to say to you, reading this: you are good and capable and special.  Just the way you are.

Your blog friend and neighbor,

A.

O Captain, My Captain

My doctoral advisor, mentor, and friend was in a fatal bike accident a couple of days ago. I will miss him deeply: his open heart, his great listening and questioning, his faith in me, his generosity and curiosity and warmth. He was a dear man, a gem. 

Thank you, Fred.  I couldn't have asked for a better guide through academics, psychology (and life). It's not going to be the same without you.  I kind of don't want to do it anymore if you're not going to be there, too.

If your actions inspire others to dream more,
learn more,
do more and
become more,
you are a leader.
~John Quincy Adams

(p.s. Picture and quote borrowed from friends who also studied with Fred. He leaves many many people better for knowing him.) 

The evolution of the happy dance

Another installment of SPOF*...

Somewhere along the line...

between teasing in the high school halls

(where G was the senior big-brother-type protector and friend

to little old sophomore me),

meeting up during the summer while home from college 

(the musical-chairs summer we started out double dating but with other people as our dates

and ended up the summer happily together),

and this blessed event,

circa February 1990,

I acquired a signature happy dance

that springs forth when I'm happy and elated and excited about life.

It's a funny little giddy move, something like this:

 

Coincidence?

I don't think so.

. . .

 Happy Valentine's Day!

May there be happy dances for everyone!

*sappy posts of February

Ein feste burg

Continuing with the sappy posts of February (SPOF):
 

When G and I were dating, he came to my grandparents' mountain cabin to meet the extended family. My grandpa built it decades ago and, as a confirmed europhile (especially Germany) one of the personal touches he created is a carved mantle with his favorite Luther quote: Ein feste burg ist unser Gott, or A Mighty Fortress is Our God.  When he heard that Greg speaks Danish, my grandpa asked if he could translate the phrase on the mantle.  Greg, sensing this was a litmus test for future inclusion in the family, took his time studying it, looked up and said,  "A Party City is Very Good?" It was very endearing. Apparently Danish and German languages don't play well together.

What I love about this: it's revealing of how willing G is to give things a try and to laugh and find humor in life. We laugh a lot. As my gr Grandma Elsie would say, let laughter save the day. He does.

 . . .

If this sounds familiar, it's because I referenced to it a couple of years ago. Also, if it sounds familiar I love you for still reading my blog after all this time.

Also: I've heard from several people that they are having difficulty leaving comments. Say it ain't so! I love your comments. Be sure to do the little spam-control code thingy and click "confirm post." Sorry for the lengthy process.

Over the fall of a sparrow

I woke up to such sad news this morning, the loss of a dear aunt, one of my mom's younger sisters. Mary.

I'm thinking of her today. Of her hilarious laugh and great humor, her devotion to family traditions and good meals, her brilliant mind, her compassion, her long and valiant efforts to stay aloft. 

My mom sent this a bit ago, a few words written by my dad this morning (thank you, Dad, I hope you don't mind I'm including this here). I think they sum up my feelings perfectly.

. . .

FreeFall
for Mary

I heard that a thousand birds fell out of an Arkansas sky the other day,
Red-winged blackbirds I think they were.
And not only in Arkansas but in Louisiana, Kansas even Sweden
All over the world these blackbirds, starlings, and sparrows
Beautiful, fragile, delicate birds, falling out of the night time sky
It breaks your heart 

Yesterday a bird fell out of the sky in Utah,
And I don’t know exactly why or what the reason was
Was its navigation system impaired? Was it buffeted by fierce winds?
I think it finally just gave up all hope of reaching a warmer, safer land
And then this beautiful, fragile, delicate bird fell out of the night time sky
It just breaks your heart 

M.Bentley
January 5, 2011
Logan

"it's the lovelight in her eyes..."*

 

Look who turned 15 this weekend!

Miss Maddy had a fabulous Saturday birthday: breakfast with some friends after her violin lesson, picnic+pie+presents with family, and then a party extravaganza with more friends (20!) here that night. 

Yep, Maddy's a joy and I feel lucky to know her and love her and mother her. She's one of those souls that came to earth already wise, curious, and open-hearted. One night when she was barely three, the girls were getting ready for bed. I asked them what they wanted to do for their last activity before bed. Read a book? Tell stories? Little Maddy piped up "I know! Let's talk about our feelings!" It cracked us up but it is very much who Maddy is: observant and sensitive and aware of everyone's feelings.

It's not that she's perfect or doesn't have struggles (remember this?) but she bravely lets herself feel the difficult emotions (like her occasional bouts with anxiety or sadness) or acknowledge whatever challenge she's facing, talks about and works through it, and is stronger and more compassionate for the struggle. 

{Brag alert.} I forgot to mention this earlier this year but maybe it's a good time to say it today. For posterity, right? {Feel free to skip; I'll never know.} At the end of the school year, the faculty members of her school select a student who has made outstanding contributions in the areas of the school values: service, leadership, character, and loyalty. Maddy received the award this year and here is part of the tribute one of her teachers wrote--he even was a bit verklempt as he read it out loud:

In the classroom, all of her teachers past and present describe her as a student who makes positive connections with students and teachers alike. She can always be counted on to do the right thing and she puts others before herself. Beyond the classroom, as a member of Student Leadership, she has been a leader of leaders. The faculty advisor describes her as "one who knows how to lead in a gentle way." As a member of the Model United Nations team her diplomatic skills are exemplary. These skills were clearly apparent as she carried herself as an ambassador would, admirably representing [our town] on the middle school trip to China. She has been integral in organizing and presiding over many of our student assemblies, including this one we are enjoying today. 

 She's a keeper.

*"it's the lovelight in your eyes where'ere you go" is the final line of one of our family's traditional birthday songs. We're the third generation to sing this particular string of 6-7 songs before the candles are blown out and the kids hold us to it every birthday (even if we do sometimes forget some of the words and make up our own).