New Haircut

(When did he get so grown up?)

Something Wild Inside My Head

Something wild happened inside my head today.

I spent the morning with my parents at Pennswood Village, a seriously well-appointed Quaker retirement community that was one of the stops on their "NOW where should we live?" tour.

We had a great visit, and on my drive to work (I'd told my office that I'd be in for the latter part of the day), I started thinking about what it would be like if we were to live at Pennswood Village when the time came to downsize and simplify. I let that daydream roll on for a while as I drove up Route 1 and cut over to 27, soaking up sun and rooting for the traffic lights to turn green so that I could just keep rolling.

When I got back to my office, still thinking about retirement choices, I remembered a conversation I'd been privy to, not so many years ago, about how maddeningly wrong it was that some retirement communities - even some of the Quaker ones - would charge gay and lesbian couples the higher "singles living together" rates rather than the more affordable "married living together" rates. Was Pennswood one of those places? I think it was maybe Stapeley, up in Germantown? I haven't lived in Pennsylvania for almost 20 years now, and retirement is still a distant dream, so I'd never gotten the full update on which places had which policies. 

Then I went through a familiar chain of thoughts... should I have asked someone at Pennswood about their policies towards LGBT retirees while I was there and had the chance? Or would that have been a "this is neither the time nor the place" situation, since it was my (cis & straight) parents who were researching their options? Should the possibility of someone else's discomfort ever be enough to silence me? Might there be times when I just need to be "off duty" as a social justice activist?

And then, maybe two hours after I'd left Pennswood, I suddenly thought, "Wait. Wait. Wait a minute! None of this matters anymore. Marriage is marriage now. That whole "find out if their fee structure acknowledges the reality of your relationship" thing is a thing of the past."

!!

When I told my now-spouse this story, she, too, had the "marriage is marriage now" epiphany only when I got to that part of the story.

And THIS, my friends, is what spending our entire adult lives living out identities which are actively discriminated against has done to our imaginations. We're flinchy. We've got our guard up. We prepare for battle. We forget.

Now, on this issue at least, we get to experience a rush of remembrance, and feel our arms drop slowly to our sides.

I want so badly for all victims of discrimination to someday have this experience of watching at least some of the scaffolding that held up prejudice get pushed off the edge of a cliff. 

It's a long fall, and a pretty satisfying sound when it cracks wide open. 

Marriage will still be many things to many people, but it will never be used as a weapon against me. Not now. Not anymore. Never again.

Porch Peaches Galore

It's porch peach season around here. What's a porch peach? I'll let Mr. D explain:

"A porch peach is a peach that's SO juicy,

you know there's no WAY you can NOT drip,

so you have to take it outside 

and eat it on the porch." (Bite.)

"This is definitely a porch peach."

(A reverent silence descends.)

Now We Walk In Beauty

It was a beautiful day.

This little lit-up walking dude had a good idea.

So did this one, but we weren't quite up for rowing,

so we went with a walk.

Lake Carnegie.

Beautiful every day.

He's got the whole lake in his hand.

Beautiful berries...

... beautiful boy.

Thanks again for the hand-me-down

binoculars, Grandpa and Nana!

(Hope you all enjoyed your day today,

wherever this finds you.)

Bumper Cars

When our friends

in New Orleans

invited us

to their school’s Spirit Night,

we said yes, of course.

Our boy had never seen bumper cars before.

Fresh from our visit to neighborhoods

where beautiful old side-hall shotgun homes

stood shoulder-to-shoulder

with their blighted, empty cousins,

this crashing on purpose

looked a little crazier, even, than usual.

But memories of our own childhoods

complete with bumper car adventures

(crackling thrill

of electricity overhead

punctuated by sharp jolts

of anticipated impact)

outweighed his fears.

Our promise of safety

held true for one more day.

We drove and crashed and laughed

and steered directly towards

yet another crash.

No one got hurt.

And everyone went home smiling.

(Thanks to the women of http://3x3x365.blogspot.com/

for their continuing inspiration.)

Everywhere We Looked

We got a lot of phone calls during the recent storms. Family and friends in warmer or less snowy places were seeing the news and wondering how we were faring. It was hard to explain, even with plenty of pictures, how all-encompassing this storm was. No matter what time of day or night, no matter where we looked, there was snow. Coming down, blowing, drifting, coming down again.

1. Look Up, 2. Still Falling, 3. White on White on White, 4. Near Miss

The tree limb that came down didn't do any damage. It's a street tree, so the Township Arborist and his crew will be dealing with it. But there are many larger trees that have to be taken care of first, so we'll probably be looking at this reminder of the surprising burden of snow for a while yet.


Here's our boy Mr. D, bravely standing under the back door tree while his Tama tries to lighten its snowload by gently shaking it. I'm not sure how many inches of snow we ultimately got. But it took us two days to shovel our cars out. And there's no telling when the gate to the backyard will swing open again. It's been wild... and wonderful.

(Thanks to all the folks
who called to check in...
so far, so good!)

Light Passing Through

My friend Laura McClanahan is an artist.

I missed her most recent show's opening, but wrote the closing date on my calendar. I would say that fully half of the art shows I've attended in my life I've attended on the final day. It seems that the spectre of of missing the work entirely is what finally propels a show to the top of my to-do list! Last Sunday was that day for Laura's show, and when I plaintively explained my situation to my family, they lovingly jumped in the car and joined me on a road trip to the Hunterdon Art Museum.

The work was fabulous, as I knew it would be. Laura has been using light as a kind of ally in her most recent pieces, shining or beaming it through objects of her choosing or creation in order to create photograms which capture a kind of alternate universe. These reminiscently cellular images have a taxonomy all their own, at once familiar and utterly strange, and afterwards I kept thinking about how different it is to focus on an object's translucence, when so much of what we think of when confronted with the material world has to do with the seeming solidity of the opaque.

Mr. D was particularly transfixed by the video installation, and kept crying out to us to, "Quick, look now!" as the kaleidoscopic patterns morphed before his eyes. "It's always different," he explained to us in the tone of one who understands and would like to bring the neophytes up to speed.

Here's a picture of T's favorite piece, with the video installation's reflection adding its own note to the composition. If you look closely, you can also see the back of Mr. D's head reflected in the glass near the center of the frame; his attachment to the video images is also captured.

We are less solid than we seem or feel ourselves to be. There are kinds of waves that pass right through us, sometimes without our knowing it. Artists give us the chance to catch a glimpse of the impossible, to pin the wave on the shore, if only for a moment, so that we can feel and understand ourselves in relation to it.

I'm so glad we were able to go.

(And, special bonus,
the museum is just minutes away from
the famous Clinton Station Diner!
We ignored the 50 lb. burger nonsense
and went straight for the 24 hr. breakfast menu.)

Thankful

The dog's fur was almost exactly the same shade of brown as the endless fallen leaves that blanket the earth behind the Princeton Friends Schoolhouse.

After our shared time in worship in the Quaker Meetinghouse, the adults usually migrate to the First Day School for some refreshments and fellowship. A group of the elementary school-aged children have taken to grabbing a cookie and then heading into the woods for a different sort of fellowship. K usually finds at least one salamander. Our own Mr. D likes to try to figure out what kinds of trees are in that patch of woods. And last Sunday, young E suddenly called out, "It's a DOG!"

The other boys came running, wanting to believe, but not knowing if they should. But sure enough, E was absolutely right. There, lying on the cold ground, was a dog, perfectly blended in and still except for a pronounced shiver.

"He's hurt!" yelled one of the boys, at which point they all began calling for their parents. We gathered in a little worried knot, trying to figure out how a pet could have ended up so far from any home. "He's cold," said one boy. "We should get some blankets."

"I'm going to go get some apples in case it's hungry!" yelled Mr. D over his shoulder as he dashed for the First Day School building.

The boys industriously plied the animal with apples, water, graham crackers, and goldfish crackers. The dog drank eagerly and ate obligingly. It ears perked up a bit, but it did not try to stand. One of the legs we could see looked like it had some kind of growth or injury. The tag on the dog's collar included its registration number with the Township police. The adults called the police, got some blankets, and made plans to take the dog to the animal shelter if neither its owner nor the animal control officers could be reached on a Sunday afternoon. But it was the boys who tended to the immediate needs of their discovered dog.

When the van from SAVE pulled up, the staff person gently cradled the dog in his arms and carried her away. The boys trailed along behind, not quite ready to relinquish their protective role.

The next morning, I called SAVE to find out if they'd been able to reach the owner. "Oh, yes," they said, "she came first thing this morning and was SO thankful to get her dog back. She was crying with happiness. The dog is fifteen years old, has cancer, and is probably near the end of her life. She may even have left home in search of a quiet corner to die, but the owner is so grateful to be able to be with her for whatever time she has left."

So much to be thankful for.

(And a special Happy Birthday
to my dear friend K,
who is the mother of two of these
kind-hearted boys.)

Weekend Adventures

This is what we looked like as we were about to head into
the long-awaited Joan Osborne concert.
Very, very happy campers.

Earlier that weekend, we basked in the glow of community
during the annual First Day School campout.
Here, young master E.
happily demonstrates the coziness of our tent.

Mr. D took this picture of his friend.
He's got a good eye for portraiture,
don't you think?

S'mores are the staff of life.

We were quite pleased to wake up all snuggled together!

(The evening temperature was in the 40's, we think.
Let's hear it for down-filled sleeping bags!)

Lessons From Camp 2009

We have returned from our traditional two weeks of camping at the amazing North of Highland Camping Area in North Truro, MA. (Hi, Bruce, Jan, Mary, & Brett!) Our dining room looks a little bit like a camping store blew up in it. But several folks have asked for our also traditional post-trip "Lessons from Camp" post, so the bungee bag and ice chest will just have to wait one more night. Here are this year's Lessons from Camp:

Enjoy the day...

...no matter what the weather.

Dance...

...as the Spirit moves you.

Bring bikes and helmets...

...and, at all times,
be prepared to swim.

Make your own souvenirs!
(Awesome visiting auntie strongly recommended.)

Leave the tents
as flat as you found them.

And fly.
You know you want to.

(Shoutouts to our camping partners Sassafras Mama and JT,
as well as to Paula Poundstone,
who was achingly funny at Vixen that first Thursday night,
& Miss Tara, who made a night in town possible again.
As always, thanks to our families for putting up
with our relative inaccessibility,
and big smushy cyberkisses
to Auntie Nish, Wendy, Karen Schiff, and Aunt Chelle
for their contributions (snailmail and otherwise)
to an extra-special stay at camp this year.
Can't get enough?
Aunt Chelle's and Sassafras Mama's pics are pretty great, too!)

Catch You on the Flip!

(image via Aunt Chelle, on Flickr)

Yes, it's that time of year again... we hear the ocean calling our names, and we are outta here! You can leave us messages in the comments below (although we probably won't read them until we get back), or, even better...

Send us snailmail at camp! Last year we got tons of mail and it was SO GREAT! If you're reading this between July 11th and July 19th, here's your big chance to make our day at camp.

Send a little note (and/or dark chocolate!) to:
Riendeau-Krause campers, site 19-I
c/o North of Highland Campground
52 Head of the Meadow Road
P.O. Box 297
North Truro, MA 02652-0297

If you'd prefer, you can call the camp and ask them to leave us a note on the camp message board, which is also a big thrill. That number (good from July 12th through the 24th or so) is 508/ 487-1191, and office hours are pretty much all day with the exception of meal breaks from noon-1pm and again from 6-7pm.

Even if you don't have a chance to send a message our way, we know we can count on you to send warm and sunny thoughts... right?

And a special thank you to the excellent neighbors who are keeping watch on our little house until we get back.

Wellfleet

(photos by Shelley, panoramic "stitching" by DoubleTake)

4:05:06

We were briefly awake at 4:05am this morning.

So that we could tell our boy that we have a picture of him
at 04 hour
05 minutes
06 seconds
07 month
08 day
09 year

Hee hee hee!

(It's possible that we pressed a few buttons
on that clock in the interests of the photo opp...
but don't tell D, okay?)

Many Happy Returns

This box has been haunting our home for the past few weeks. Too big to hide in our smallish house, it needed to rely instead on this very effective homemade warning label. As soon as I saw it, I thought, "No matter what's in the box, it's all gravy... I've already gotten my favorite present."

my wife and son
full of grins and secrets –
early birthday gift

(I did get some great tangible presents as well.
The scary spider box held a complete set of new iittala bowls
to replace our beloved 26 year old (!) Marimekko set.
Another reason to have friends over for brunch, yay!)

Running

Mr. D has been preparing for the very cool Princeton Kids' Marathon. I am keeping him company on his training runs. Which means that I suddenly know several 1 mile running routes through our neighborhood. The journey of parenting certainly has some interesting twists and turns.

(I'm sure my sister is laughing,
and I would be too, if I had any breath left!)

In the Woods

We're heading up to Blairstown to put the peace back in Mother's Day. Think sunny thoughts.

Forever Family Day #8

Today was the anniversary of Tama's successful adoption of our Mr. D. We have wanted to celebrate our membership in the world of families that have been strengthened through adoption, despite the fact that we would probably have preferred not to have been forced to go through the process.

We spend Forever Family together, with no big plan beforehand. This year's celebration included hours of deep immersion in all things Lego:


But the day was too beautiful to NOT head outside, so we took ourselves into the Herrontown Woods:

Where Mr. D practiced his balancing...

... and Tama and Mr. D re-invented the see-saw.

This year, for the first time, I was a little nervous about our "no plan" plan for Forever Family Day. Would Mr. D experience the day as being truly special? Terri reassured me: all he really cares about is that we spend the day together. As usual, she was right.

(PS: The last two years' worth of Forever Family Days
looked like this and this.)

PPS: Easter was last week.
I'm a little behind.
These eggs are all gone now!)

Little Things

It's official.
The smaller denizens of the earth are stirring.

And I slept last night in short sleeves
for the first time in what feels like forever.

C'mon, spring!

(Warm gratitude to the fabulous Wendy Cook,
whose post yesterday morning inspired this one.)

Over the River and Through the Woods

Mr. D and I had a terrific visit with Grammy and Grampy this weekend.

We watched some amazing wrestling...

Re-established the boy-cousin bond:

And shared some great stories:

As Mr. D explains to Grampy in this picture, he was especially excited to be able to get his new wrestling shirt (the text reads, "Grappler for Life: the heart of a lion") autographed by the new New York State champion in the 119 lb. weight class, the amazing Steven Keith. Steven is a fierce and classy wrestler who is also a totally nice guy who will be attending Harvard in the fall (his mom, it seems, was rooting for Princeton, but hers was not the deciding vote... oh well!) With some luck, we'll get to see Steven wrestle again the next time the Princeton v. Harvard wrestling match is in New Jersey.

I didn't get a picture of Mr. D and his Grammy delightedly poring over mathematical drawings and equations, but I suspect that there will be lots more photo opportunities in that category in the years ahead!

This last picture was taken about 10 minutes after we pulled out of Grammy and Grampy's driveway:

Kind of makes you want to take a nap yourself, doesn't it?

(Thanks again
for another great visit,
Grammy & Grampy!)

That's Weird

Background: Our son and his friends have just started to cross over into the exciting new social territory of self-determination. They can pick up the phone and call a friend; play date planning can start with them! Recently Mr. D's friend Mr. L did just this, resulting in the following interesting conversations:

Mr. L to Mr. D: Can you come over and play?
Mr. D to Mr. L: Yes, I think so, but you should talk to my mom (hands phone to Tama).

Tama to Mr. L: Hi, sweetie, thanks for calling us. I don't actually know what Mr. D's schedule is on that day, so could you call back and talk to his other mom later tonight.
Mr. L: Okay.

After both parties hung up, Mr. L turned to his mother, confused. "Why do I have to call back and talk to his mother? I just talked to his mother."

His mom responded, "Well sweetie, remember that in Mr. D's family there are two moms, and it sounds like his other mom is the one who knows what his plans for Friday are."

Mr. L: Oh, that's right. Two moms. And no dad at all?

His mom: Mr. D's family is Mr. D and his two moms.

Mr. L: That's weird. (long pause) Who yells at him?

Mr. L's mom of course immediately ran off to tell her husband.

Our other favorite kid response to Mr. D's two-mom status was the kid who said, "Man, you're lucky. You probably get TWO cookies after school."

Two moms = twice as many snowball targets.

Big Debut

We finally figured out how to get Mr. D to sleep in:




Here he is in his competitive wrestling debut. Once we teach him to wash his own wrestling gear, life will be REALLY good! ;-)

As many of you know, we took Mr. D. to almost every sport there was when he was little. I think he hasn't yet seen a polo match, but other than that the bases are well covered. Wrestling was the sport for him from the moment he first saw two big boys on a mat. We're so lucky to have the outstanding PAWS program right here in our town.