I know, I know. We’re on to cyber deals and Christmas parties, but first I must pay homage to our glorious fall.
New season, new goals!
School starts and she still holds my hand
A new fridge. And a brother-in-law who is all in!
Lazy lump days
My favorite cows
Is any running better than fall running? A completed piano chart!
Girl in a tree
Love this guy.
Baby blow that horn! Her siblings love this sound 🙂
Grandpa moves in! We are happy.
My soccer girls! Finishing the basement. So much work. So much satisfaction.
Fiery skies atop Maple Street
The woods were lonely, dark and deep, but I have promises to keep…
Early morning drives
The boy paints his first bathroom
Thanksgiving! Our great Goody neighbor She sings The basement is almost livable! The boy’s room.
Saying good-bye to Grandma and Grandpa’s house. We close today.
You were glorious.
“Seasons are not only realities that occur outside and around us, in the skies and in the trees. I believe seasons are also internal and personal, interwoven into the fabric of human life. We are designed to transition, to change, and to vary. Our souls have seasons.” -Adam McHugh
Posting again because it’s Halloween and this is my favorite treat: pumpkin cookies with cream cheese frosting. BOO!
This recipe comes from a friend who got it from a Pillsbury cookbook. And it’s a beautiful thing.
A warning: This cookie is only allowed in October and November. Otherwise, I’d eat so many I’d turn into a pumpkin and roll away.
They are really that good.
I have resisted posting this recipe here because I like to blog only healthy treats.
The story goes like this – I made this decadent treat for my son’s eighth-grade field trip bake sale. He brought them to school and came home saying, “Mom, the teachers didn’t even put them out – they ATE them! They ate ALL of them!”
Of course this delighted me.
And I couldn’t blame them. I don’t like to share them either.
The next day, several teachers pounced on me, begging me for the recipe. Okay, I might be exaggerating the pouncing part. But they really really wanted it, so I relented.
I’m just giving you what you want 🙂
First, you’ll cream the butter, sugar, egg, vanilla, and pumpkin. Then you’ll add the dry mix of flour, baking powder and soda, a dash of cinnamon and salt.
I could tell you that I grew the pumpkin myself, cut, cooked, and pureed them, too. But that would be a lie. Ain’t nobody got time for that. Canned Libby’s pumpkin does quite nicely!
Bake at 350 for 10-12 minutes and you’ve got this glorious yum-yum. Sometimes we just eat them plain and they’re still a treat.
While the cookie cools, you can make some frosting!
The original frosting does not call for cream cheese, but unless you add a boatload more powdered sugar, the frosting is too runny. Cream cheese is a nice binder and the taste? Mmm.
Halloween party, anyone?
So hear you go, my favorite fall cookie (aka, the cookie the teachers won’t share):
Pumpkin Cookies with Cream Cheese Frosting:
1 cup butter
1/2 cup firmly packed brown sugar
1 cup canned pumpkin (plain, not pumpkin pie filling)
1 tsp vanilla
2 cups + 1 heaping tablespoon flour
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp salt
Cream Cheese Frosting:
3 tablespoons butter
1/4 cup brown sugar
1/4 cup milk
4 ounces cream cheese
1 cup powdered sugar
Heat over to 350. Cream the butter and sugars together until light and fluffy. Add vanilla, pumpkin, and egg. Mix. Add flour, baking powder and soda, cinnamon, and salt. Mix just until incorporated. Spoon onto baking sheet. Bake for 10-12 minutes. Let cool.
Melt 3 tablespoons butter over low heat. Add 1/4 cup brown sugar. Stir constantly until small boil, slightly thickened. Cool 10 minutes. Add 1/4 cup milk, 4 ounces cream cheese, and 1 cup powdered sugar or until desired thickness. Frosting should be thick enough to frost cookie without running off.
Now for the best part: Eat (after your run, of course!)
In the cookie recipe: substitute all of the butter or 1/2 of the butter for 1/2 avocado (it works well!)
Use whole wheat white flour and you won’t be able to tell the difference
It’s the most wonderful time of the year: Fall in New England, with more apples than we know what do with. We start by eating vast quantities and then move on to applesauce. Um, by the way, have you eaten the Honey Crisp apple? Oh yum, I can now die a happy woman. Finally, after seven years, our apple trees are bearing fruit. We don’t spray (because I’m lazy and afraid of chemicals) so our apples are not “perfect,” on the outside, but they sure are perfect on the inside. There’s a lesson somewhere in there, isn’t there? We also picked up all the drops from a tree at Hogwarts on Columbus Day when we all miraculously had one full free day, with no other obligations except apples. I wasn’t sure I wanted to do applesauce this year. But Brynne persisted – and I’m glad she did! “It’s a tradition, mom!” And traditions must be followed. The weather could not have been any more perfect, where I could cut and core apples outside (surrounded by bees 🙂 The colors were popping! I didn’t feel guilty about not cutting off every speck of apples – off to the compost it goes (as the chickens are no longer.) It comes from the ground and goes back to the ground. After the apples are cut, they are put in a small bath, and onto the stove until they are mush. Then it’s all pushed through the strainer Out comes the applesauce! The seeds and skin all get pushed out another chute. My 6th-grader, the newly-appointed domestic diva. She loves cooking. Her sister was especially helpful! Paige was in her pioneer clothes…obviously acting like a lady. The green funnel (from Amazon) makes this job so much easier when you’ve got small-mouth mason jars. The applesauce doesn’t need any help, but we give it a touch of sugar and cinnamon. Mmmm. Brynne likes it best served warm. What you don’t gobble, you can can. Can you do the can can? Think Thanksgiving and neighbor gifts! For the step-by-step canning, Click HERE.Our neighbor, Mr. Goody, is the best. So he gets applesauce. We know that in a few weeks he’ll be plowing us out of our driveway. We’ve got to make sure he feels appreciated. And doesn’t he have the best neighbor name evuh’?
But don’t worry, you don’t have to give it all away.
It’s the most wonderful time of the year – and there isn’t any snow on the ground! In New England, that means Fall. And in this family, that means soccer. Here they are, the fab four lacing up during the last days of August to play a friendly game of family soccer. You see, for better or for worse, the competitive genetic streak is strong.
I’ve been observing what we pass down to our wee ones.
The other day at Hogwarts, we were sitting around the dinner table where all the food magically appears. A little girl walked past me wearing an adorable tutu, with her hair all done up. Her mother loves dance, teaches dance, and takes her children to the ballet. I looked around my table to see soccer jerseys and ponytails. No, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
Unconsciously (or not!) we encourage and condition our children to love the things we love.
Which makes me realize I’ve got to start playing more classical music around here.
Oh course, kids must find and pursue their own passions. Like when Nelson wanted to be a ninja for four years. Or how Cope loves calligraphy and knitting and listening to history tapes and Brynne paints and Paige loves dogs and collecting small rocks.
But it’s not exactly a coincidence that none of my kids play hockey. You know?
In our home, the gang is all here. In their cleats: As it should be. And the weather is turning. And the wind has shifted. There is that smell in the air…the smell of Fall sports. The smell of running and passing and scoring. Can you feel it too?
Sometimes I hear my children coaching one another. Are they imitating me?
“Pass! Bend your knees. That’s it. Your plant foot points at your target. Lock your ankle. Don’t just stand their like a stick, MOVE!”
I swear on my future grave I have never said “don’t just stand their like a stick!” (though I have surely thought it…:)
Our backyard games get physical. Soccer becomes a full contact sport. The donkeys next door love the entertainment.
(side note: please excuse the blurry photos. those darn kids move so much. and also, I’m having external hard drive issues. as in: I don’t get it.)
Anyhoo, the fall season also means coaching! Once again I’m coaching the co-ed 7th/8th grade middle school team in our little town.
We don’t have try-outs. We don’t make cuts because we don’t have to. Everyone can play. This means some years I have 30 kids (every year except this one) or 13 kids (this year.)
I take this job as Coach seriously.
Being “Coach” holds a very powerful position in the eyes of a child. Coach is the authority. Coach has so much sway, can make or break a child’s view of him or herself. One cutting remark and a kid never goes out for the team again. But a coach who believes in your worth, sees potential when no one else does, encourages without fail: that’s the coach who changes lives.
Do you remember longing for Coach to believe in you? I do.
We should all have coaches! Read this fantastic article by Atul Gawande, a surgeon and best-selling author. READ it. It’s so good.
(I could have a “motherhood coach” or “organizational” coach or perhaps “how to get out of folding the laundry” coach.)
Here’s my team this year:
This year we are the underdogs, a complete turn around from last season, when we dominated. But just look at us! We’re like superheroes waiting to bust out.
Last week we split the team into two and brought up some younger players (including Brynne!). I needed another coach…and there was my girl, Cope. She was so nervous and so excited.
We rode the school bus to the game together, discussing strategy and positions.
When it was all over…she was riding a huge high. “That was so fun!” I could see her dreaming of coaching her little Copes someday. I’ve been doing this awhile now, and Yes, darling, you’re right. It’s so fun. My girl squad
Over the years I’ve learned this:
We are all athletes
Never ever give up on a kid because
They will continually surprise you
Heart trumps talent any day
Life lessons are learned on the athletic field
Wondering about the life lessons? For instance, yesterday we had several conversations about being kind to one another (and not saying the “F” word on the bus, or like, ever.)
When we got off the bus we talked about being good school representatives.
During warmups I had a heart-to-heart with one of my players:
“No one listens to me!”
“Why do you think that is?”
“Because they’re like…stupid!”
“Actually, look at those girls. They are your defense. And they are very strong and smart.”
“But they don’t listen to me!”
“Let me ask you this,” I said. “Does anyone like to be bossed around and told to shut up?”
“Perhaps,” I said, there was a better way to communicate. We talked about The Art of Charm and my “Sandwich Theory for Spouses.” Which is this: for every criticism you have, you must sandwich it between two positive comments. Otherwise, I am not listening to you.
“Boy,” I said. “Your defense needs to hear you say positive things about what they do. For instance, when they get the ball and clear it wide you yell, ‘GREAT CLEAR!’ If you are kind and positive most of the time, then your team will listen to your suggestions.”
He frowned. More tears. He was done talking. He didn’t want to play the first half.
But wait…second half began. He took the field.
And clear across the soccer field I heard his loud voice yelling, “Good job, great clear!”
Oh, these are the things that make me very happy.
There are other stories that aren’t quite so sunny, but we’ll leave it there 🙂
I became a coach at the same time I became a mother.
Cope was a newborn. I would bring her to varsity girls soccer practice at Hogwarts, and she would cry and cry because that’s just what she liked to do. I would push her stroller around the field, running to quiet her. She was not quiet. She had a pair of lungs that echoed across three soccer fields and then some. And her voice triggered the most inconvenient milk let-downs.
As my babe grew, she was always on the soccer field, followed by the rest of her siblings.
They crawled toward soccer balls, tried to eat them, and learned to kick. Eventually Cope was old enough to play on a team. But she needed a coach. I looked around and knew it was meant to be.
We’ve been together ever since.
Here she is, passing me the ball, on the same ground she once crawled on. A highlight of my life was playing together on the turf last week. I mean it was SATURDAY NIGHT LIGHTS.
My hip was hurting. I’m a tad bit slower. When I turn it’s not quite as quick. And I don’t want to get hurt. Because it might take me awhile to get up again.
I have begun to fear my soccer playing is dwindling. But until that time, I’ll enjoy the thrill of running down the field, wind in my face, attempting to make the play of my life. And then I will obsess about all the things I should have done better…it’s that darn competitive gene.
And when I can’t kick the ball anymore? I imagine I’ll still be holding my clipboard and whistle.
So here we go, another season.
Where Cope is missing out due to an ocean adventure.
Where Nelson is trying out for JV1, a team he wants to make more than he wants to breathe. Where he believes his Magista soccer cleats will summon the gods of soccer to shine on him.
Where Brynne is playing on two teams, and Paige is playing real games for the first time.
And where mom and dad are on the field as coaches, working and fighting for those magical moments that come from hard work, unselfishness, muscle memory, and team spirit.
There have been mistakes made a long the way. I wish I could have some do-overs. But every year, if you’re open to learning, you get better. You know what works and what doesn’t. You understand that games are played because they’re fun, because there is glory to be found in the arena, and because your athletes (even the little ones!) have something to teach you, too.
It’s a glorious thing.
Another season of coaching, another season of playing. Forget December. In these “pauhts,” it’s the most wonderful time of the year!
The night before school required one more trip to the water… We were a wee bit excited!
Woo-hoo! (why are my pictures fuzzy? I must have been jumping, too.) Mama, the water is cold….! I love how kids never seem to mind those minor details And just like that, the sun set on summer. We turned toward a new school year, which always requires a new mindset and is always epic in its own way. The Professor and I looked at each: “I wonder what’s going to happen this year.“
The next morning the alarm sounded in the children’s bedroom…beep, beep, beep. Horrifying noise.
Paige was most excited about packing her lunch because her mother had bought her a YumBox! The Professor rolled his eyes. “What is this, lunch boxes of the rich and famous?” Hey, I it was reasonably priced ($20 with a coupon,) and a justified purchase as packing a lunch no longer requires non-recyclable plastic bags (and maybe because it was just so super cute!)
And now I become one of those parents who post pictures of their child’s school lunch. Hey, I get it now – it’s fun!
Paige thinks cutting up little pieces of food is FUN. She practically skips around the kitchen.
Sadly, after I bought one for Brynne, she chickened out: “Mom, I’m in sixth grade! I can’t bring a Yumbox.” Sigh.
Food groups. FUN.
I’m stopping now.
The next morning, only two of our kiddies were going to school. We have entered a new era.
I told the boy to stand by his sisters. “Ha ha ha…you have to go to school.” Aren’t brothers the best? Just you wait, Nellie, your time is coming and ninth grade ain’t no walk in the park!
Always my favorite picture…we’re holding this hand TIGHT. It’s the last hand. The sixth grader had already dashed off! But she still gives me kisses.
Meanwhile, the new high schooler cashed his paycheck to buy some preppy clothes. #landsend
And he made his own duct tape keyboard case for his iPad. Do you think he’ll get beat up? (kidding!) Love his creativity. He sure loves me taking his picture.
3. Cope’s friends like them, too. One of them asked where I got them. I let her check my label. “That is so weird,” Cope said.
3. This is my green pair of pants. Nelson’s friends like this pair, but I don’t offer any label checking. “Mom, stop. That’s so embarrassing.”
4. Why are parents so embarrassing? I mean, I don’t walk down the street and say, “There’s my kid, don’t look at me don’t talk to me let’s pretend you don’t exist.” This would be a fascinating dissertation.
5. I mean, who can pretend these sweet things don’t exist???
6. We’re exhausted. Today my class took a difficult quiz on all the superficial muscles of the body. They spell words like sternocleidomastoid. It makes me so proud I could cry. Tears would pour out my lacrimal cavities which are surrounded by the ethmoid and nasal bones which are protected by the obicularis oculi muscle.
6b. Next week is finals.
6c. Have I mentioned? We are all exhausted.
7. This leaf fell on my window. I named the picture, “Fall on Me.”
8. Paige fell in the pond. But this catastrophic moment led me to this photo. So it was worth the dunk 🙂
9. Snow fell on my kale this morning. How rude. However, can you believe how hearty this leafy green is? Everyday I fetch eggs and pluck leaves for the next day’s smoothie. And it’s November 12! Put KALE on your calendar to plant in March. You’ll never go hungry again.
10. The Halloween candy is killing me. Like, probably literally.
11. Milk Duds and Heath Bars. “Don’t eat them,” my friend said. Too late.
12. Then, listen to THIS! It’s so good. It’s all about BRAIN HEALTH. I love this stuff so much I feel like doing cartwheels. Can you spell G-E-E-K? I can!
13. Sadly, Milk Duds and Heath Bars are definitely not mentioned.
I love athletics. I know this doesn’t surprise you 🙂
So many life lessons.
It’s a shame more kids don’t get the chance to experience them.
My competitive streak still comes out when I’m running and have to catch that guy in front of me, when I’m sprinting down the soccer field and just can’t get there quite as easily as before, or when my children play the long-standing rival.
With age, sore knees, and raising children, perspective grows. When your child plays, there’s an opportunity to reflect on the point of it all.
Growing up I accepted the “cuts,” the “sorry, you’re not good enoughs,” the “varsity players vs. the junior varsity players” because, well, I didn’t get cut. (I considered it a shame math class didn’t make cuts.)
Until one day I did get cut. I was 15 and willing to quit track to wear a Westside cheerleading uniform. Rejection was a phone call. “Sorry, you didn’t make it.” As I sat gloomily in the kitchen, I imagined my try-out buddy getting picked up by all the popular senior cheerleaders and celebrated with vaseline in her hair, marker on their face, and other humiliations. Lucky!
My mother considers this a blessing.
I was cut again in college. The list was posted outside the cross-country coach’s door after a grueling run on a freezing cold Idaho morning before the sun was even up. No conversation, just my name missing from the posted list.
That was TWENTY YEARS ago this fall and I can still feel the sting. I can still smell the cold Idaho air and the faint whiff of cow. I can still see the stars that twinkled on that morning. I can still remember what I prayed for…God, please let me run fast, please let me make this team. Please help me run my best.
This is the stuff that stays with you.
Alas, not everyone can play or run on a college level, but by that time I could scrape my dreams off the Idaho track and keep going.
But for the kid who gets cut too early? That’s stealing dreams.
That’s not to say we shouldn’t strive for a high level of play.
That’s also not to say there shouldn’t be tiers.
But for every kid who wants to play, let them play.
This fall, Cope tried out for the girls varsity team soccer team. She was so scared she almost bailed. I pushed. Don’t not do it because you’re scared. That’s something you’ll always regret.
After a week of a grueling two-a-day preseason, her name was on the list. “I can’t believe I made it,” she said, dazed. She’s young. She acknowledges she has to work on her ball handling.
You know why she made the team? The coach rewarded her preseason “hustle.”
Life lesson = guts matter. Grit trumps talent. Hard works = dreams come true.
I weep. I thank my lucky stars for such a coach.
This isn’t Cope – it’s Alicia. And it’s just a sweet shot. Um, you want to talk about grit and lessons on the field?
I love this photo. When Cope was devastated after a game (she’s incredibly hard on herself) this awesome team rallied.
(you wouldn’t believe how much begging I had to do for Cope to let me post this pic:)
And then there’s this guy. Lucky boy, he got his mom for a coach this year. (And once again I feel terrible because it’s really hard to coach and get good pictures of him.)
This year was a life-changing year. All summer he worked his tail off. He was obsessed with the world cup and Messi, watched his Youtube soccer videos, read about “the greatest soccer player in the world,” inspired that Messi is only 5’7.”
He practiced and practiced and practiced. He was never without a soccer ball. Okay, he did sleep. Once.
He started playing with me at summer soccer. Gerry, a boy’s varsity soccer captain went out of his way to make my boy feel good about his game. Free, life-changing mentorship.
In one summer my Nellie Mak was a tremendously better player, impacting the start of his eighth grade year. He had momentum. His confidence blossomed. He became a leader.
In our little town, at our little middle school, we don’t make cuts. And even though it creates some logistical headaches, everyone plays no matter the skill level.
But there are thousands of kids just like my son that get cut from their school team. So sad.
This year I had 30 kids. With only 11 kids that can play on the field at one time, is this a challenge? Uh, yeah.
Did we have the best year ever? Yep.
Do I want to keep all of these kids? YES. A million times yes.Because if there is one thing I’ve learned as a teacher and a coach, it’s this: human beings are remarkable. They’re ability will constantly surprise you.
With enough hustle, grit, and a little athletic ability mixed in, the kid who never played soccer before becomes a solid high school recruit.
For kids, athletics starts out as fun. But coaches are fired because they don’t “win.”
What are sports for?
What if we approached athletics as a learning environment, where attitude and effort counted as much as height and natural strength?
Seth Godin says, “When you’re six years old and you try out for the hockey team, only two things are going to get you picked ahead of the others: either you’re older (it’s true, check this out) or you were born with size or speed or some other advantage that wasn’t your choice.”
A seventh grader recently told me, “Adults say that winning doesn’t matter, but that’s always the first thing they ask – did you win?”
As a coach, I always try to remember: soccer is so great because it’s so FUN. Because it’s hard. Because it requires so much mental and physical effort. Because you get to play with a TEAM – those that are better than you and those you are better than. You get to make plays, learn to do the Maradona – you get to kick something! How FUN is that?
Some of my kids who I thought just weren’t very good last year showed up this year and they suddenly KNEW HOW TO PLAY SOCCER. All that dreaming over the summer, brain development, growing and kicking and running and world cup analysis. Coordination improved, dribbling clicked, bones, muscles, balance, the ability to see the field, anticipation – all of these things take time.
If I had cut them last year?
“What if we celebrated the students who regularly try the hardest, help each other the most and lead? What if we fast tracked those students, and made it clear to anyone else willing to adopt those attitudes that they could be celebrated too?”
Can’t you see their potential? 🙂
As a side bonus for coaching, you’ll get to ride THE BUS! Forget the field, this is really how you get to know a kid. I would tell you about “secret circle,” but sorry, I’m sworn to secrecy. Anyway, you probably don’t want to know.Our last game season was a friendly match-up on the turf, under the lights. It was the culmination of a near-perfect season. Lucky, lucky us – TURF! Screaming fans! All our dreams came true!Here’s my Brynnie-the-Pooh. She loves the game so much she laughs when she dribbles. Soccer makes stars shine in her eyes Perhaps you’ve heard me mention a few times how much I love this game? And this guy. He just happened to come walking across my camera lens!The youngest roams during all these game. I hope she loves soccer some day, too. Right now she’s soft, sweet, and easily wounded. She could go either way. It depends on what kind of experience she has at an early age. I hope it’s a good one. Please don’t steal her dreams.
Recently Julia wrote of the origin of the word “compete.” We often connect compete with battle. Beat, destroy, annihilate, kill.
It really means:
compete: verb from Latin competere to seek together, from Latin com- + petere to come together, agree, to go to
Wouldn’t it be awesome if we saw team sports that way? Seek together. You’re right, Julia, that sounds so much better than “attack.”
Fifty years ago this year, the Civil Rights Act of 1964 was signed. President Kennedy was assassinated before he saw the day come, but when Lyndon Johnson signed the act, he said their was no better tribute to our fallen president.
Many of my personal heroes come from the civil rights era, and though a quick trip to D.C. came at a terribly busy time, I was easily talked into accompanying my husband.
Our 4:30 wake-up call was worth this picture of the sky guy.
Before meeting with kids at schools, we stopped in at the offices of Foulger-Pratt. These boys are Gregor’s former college roommates at BYU. We love these good boys. It’s been years and years since we’ve seen each other, but time had hardly seemed to pass at all. They said we looked exactly the same, but I wonder, are we getting older?
That night we went to a school to speak about Hogwarts. This admissions trip is vastly different than NYC. And it has everything to do with culture, family, and money. I felt so incredibly blessed to have good schools for my kids, that I’m not attending school fairs to get my child out of a terrible district with underfunded schools that don’t even have paper!
I love Hogwarts with all my heart and I wish everyone got a howler – but wouldn’t it be better if every single community made education a top priority and no one had to go outside their community to get a top-rate education? Sigh. School systems are tricky and sticky.
The next day was one of my biggest motivations for traveling to D.C.: A National Mall tour where millions of tourists visit to commemorate past presidents, iconic symbols of america, and to celebrate our veterans.
Beware: If you go to DC, don’t follow my route. It’s rather erratic. Go Here to get the full experience.
We had a few hours, so to get around for our tour, we put on our running shoes. Armed with ipods, and me with my iphone for pictures, we started off.
My tour guide was a little…fast. My tour was more like an interval sprint as I kept stopping to take pictures of what could be a once-in-a-lifetime-moment(!) and then had to sprint back up to my tour guide who was still running! I needed to work on speed anyway.
So much history in this place. It took me a few trips to enjoy NYC, but I loved D.C. right away. Of course I was in a very clean and well-kept area, but the city had a clean, cool vibe.
We didn’t stay long to chat with the IRS!
At every street corner there were suits
The architecture was incredible
The Red Cross, inscribed with: “In Memory of the Heroic Women of the Civil War.” Love that. Wicked Cool The Washington Monument was built to honor George Washington, the first president of the United States. It’s a 555-foot marble obelisk tower overlooking D.C. Found this in the middle of the National Mall. Made me feel right at home.Department of Commerce
The White HouseAnd bomb-sniffing dogs. Are they always around or just this morning?
Next we ran (sprinted) to the WWII Memorial.
From the Pacific the Atlantic…all the states are honored with the fallen
I’ve observed: Musicians, songwriters, photographers, and writers find inspiration in sacred places.
The work of this artist is stunning, detailed, and poignant
I imagine this monument would mean that much more if I was sending my son or daughter into combat.
From there we ran to the Lincoln Monument:
And I stood where Martin stood:This is where Dr. King gave his famous “I Have a Dream” speech, from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial on August 28, 1963. The next year, the Civil Rights Act was passed. Five years later he would be assassinated.The Lincoln Monument. We arrived sweating and tired from running up the stairs. It’s worth all the steps you’ll ever have to climb.
In the middle of a work week in the middle of October, hundreds of tourists were taking pictures. It was striking – most were foreign speaking. Of all the places they could go on vacation, they came to America, the capitol of the United States to take pictures of the symbols and monuments we have built to represent freedom and equality.
Soon after, we were running again, me taking a photo and then sprinting…”Wait up!”
The sprint was worth this photo. It was a gorgeous day.
Eventually we ran by the Smithsonian Castle and museum. By this point, 10 a.m., I was starving, my blood sugar low from lack of breakfast.
But there were still photos to take. Like our nation’s capital…
There was a ceremony taking place
The view from the opposite end of the mall
Like NYC, but to a lesser degree, souvenirs for sale. I just wanted food, not a shirt. Wait up, tour guide!
Thankfully, 7 miles later, he found me an apple in the hotel gym. And I lived another day.
From there we headed to another part of D.C. where our “contact,” was.
While waiting, an old man came out. His name is Walter Ray. He was “just writing down some song lyrics.” And this guy, he’s like 80-years-old and he’s got civil rights history! He’s written songs for “I don’t know who all,” including the The Manhattans .
“Do you all like to write?” he asked.
Husband pointed to me, “She does.”
He shakes my hand and says, “The thing is, you gotta have ambition! You just gotta keep at it.”
And I said, “Sir, I need to get your picture (even though I really hate my hair right now).” He obliged and after, showed me two of his published books of poetry.
I was sufficiently inspired.
Walter’s walls were covered with memorabilia, including this picture. “That’s me with the man right there,” he says.
Walter Ray has two children, Roz and Walter Ray Jr. They are both lawyers. Roz has represented Bill Cosby, Kris Kross, Johnny Cochran – there was an entire wall of autographed photos, including Roz and Hilary Clinton.
Walter Ray jr showed up and we went for crab cakes and talked “business.” Walter looks like this laid-back, casual guy who you may not glance twice at. But he runs a non-profit to help kids go to school. When he starts talking I start taking notes. He knows every basketball stat there is, and connections to everyone in the city.
He hints at political “rats” and scandals, of people who are “distractions to the kids who could actually be somethin’ and you guys is the problem! Masquerading like you’re all that. Rats!” He says, “Satan has a team!”
He says that the best don’t always rise – “most of ’em are in the pen.” Kids, he says, need someone to believe in them. And this of course is where strong families come in.
Walter is working on a documentary of his uncle, Sam Jones, who won ten NBA rings for the Celtics – the second most EVER in history.
We could have listened to Walter all day, but when he writes his book, we’ll be first in line.
After that we headed to Virginia to meet kids at a school. I took pictures of the art on the wall – how cool is this? It was done by artist-in-resident Stephen Parlato. I was so inspired, again wishing that all kids could get an education with an artist like this.
And then it was time to say adieu to D.C.
We raced to the BMI, stopping to drop off our car rental, take a shuttle, grab some dinner, get through security, shove dinner in mouth, and hop on a plane for an hour and a half. We landed in Manchester NH at midnight and drove an hour home. We were greeted by dear grandmother who had watched our children for two days, played chauffeur, fed darlings, AND kept the house clean. I tell ya, we’ve got it good.
The next morning was a full day at Hogwarts as it was parent’s weekend. I walked around campus with my daughter, thinking of this opportunity she has. Not only is there magic, spells, and arithmetic, there are people who love her, take care of her, encourage her “to rise.”
Fifty years ago the civil rights act was passed, and though we still have problems and society isn’t perfect, we’ve come along way, haven’t we? I’m optimistic for the future. As Walter says, “the best don’t rise unless there’s someone tellin’ ’em what’s up.”
Are you in an afternoon snack funk? For that magical combination of fast, quick, tasty AND healthy?
Check. Baked apples to the rescue!
True, you need an oven, but baked apples are so different than the usual fare, that I was just tickled apple pink at such a quick, healthy, and tasty morsel. Man, I love this season. The apples are in full bloom (are we really into fall?) so it’s time to pick yourself some yum-yum.
Turn the oven on to 400. Take a knife and cut a circle out of the top
Just like that! Now, darlings, use a melon baller and scoop out the middle, past the seeds It’s surprisingly easy.
Isn’t that pretty?The gorgeous apple! And I love stars. Star was my alias in college. Really 🙂
Eat the tops or feed them to the chicken. Or doggie. There. All scooped out and ready to fill. I suggest putting down foil to prevent dishwashing. Put a little brown sugar in the center and on the sides. Just a tad. Totally optional. Add a little cinnamon Perfect, no?
Now, put in preheated oven for about 15 min. An apple full of love. Isn’t that a perfect heart?
If you accidentally overbake them, no worries, just eat that warm, mushy apple pie right up.
Can you only have these for after school? Heck no! They’re pretty terrific for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Even Valentine’s.
Baked Apple Bites:
Preheat oven to 400.
Wash apples, cut off top
Spoon out seeds (scraping sides a little bit), making a little well
Put a teensy bit of brown sugar and cinnamon inside
Bake at 400 for about 15 minutes or so, depending on how crunchy or soft you like to eat baked apples.
We said our good-byes to late night summer nights and jumped right into fall. What a leap! We are busy going from one thing to the next. Before school could start however, we had some shopping to do.
Paige found some beautiful mushroom accoutrements and Brynne found this…she was not impressed. I can’t even write the word I detest it so much. Anyway, we did not purchase the lovely little undergarment for my fifth grader.
Mama managed to get one more soccer game in – in the pouring rain!
To get pumped up for his last year in middle school, Nelson watched Rocky IV. My brother, Eric, waxed poetic about the great cinematic creation and ended the tribute with…”I’m not ashamed to admit I wiped a tear from my eye while writing that.” As you can see, we take our sports seriously.
And then we really were off to school. Cope was inside eating bacon when I took the annual school photo. The tradition of four darlings in a row is totally ruined. On the first day, Nelson and Brynne scampered off to find friends, but at least there is one who still allows a photo with her mama. I’m including her shoes here because she wore these the first week. A little worn, but still perfectly good shoes, wouldn’t you agree?
One of her friends though, deemed them unacceptable. “Ew,” she said. “Get some new shoes. Ew. Get some new clothes. You’re supposed to wear new clothes on the first day.” After school, Paige frowned while telling the story, but she later decided someone must have been having a bad day in second grade 🙁
Brynne, however, got her some fancy shmancy shoes.
And picture 3 is included because Mom is DETERMINED to pack snacks the night before school.
I’m already failing. I can’t do it. It’s a wretched late-night task. Can’t a girl just watch Jack Bauer without thinking about carrot sticks and applesauce?
As the youngest, Paige does a lot of waiting around for siblings. Here she rolls around the floor waiting at Brynne’s eye appointment. I was wondering if it was socially acceptable to do the same. She got back at me by getting strep throat this week so I had to wait on her.
Before school started for eldest child, we trotted to the big city so I could get those red Bean boots I’ve been drooling over. Now that I’m teaching a class on campus, I can justify such purchases, no? Red galoshes are probably not what you stylish urban dwellers wear, but come on, they’re red!
Well. Apparently, I am not allowed to simply TIE the shoelace. I have to do this thing curly-cue thing on the end and leave it untied. After my first effort, Cope shook her head sadly. “Oh, honey, no.” She really called me honey. And then a daughter tied her mother’s shoe. We have now come full circle. Sniff.
After school, these are my peeps. Oh my goodness, what a TEAM we have! I love them so much. Our skills are mad good, sure, but we are also KIND and SUPPORTIVE. Ah, the athletic field; one of the best classrooms in life.
Putting up the nets
I am now back to being the bag lady: snacks, Barbies, water, shoes, dolls, pencils, gum, soccer lesson plans, whistle, dog treats?
Cope has been playing some intense soccer as she tries out for the varsity team. Before school officially started she spent a week living at Hogwarts in the dormitory! Away from ME!
We had many text exchanges.
My children love my compassionate, nurturing, texting tone.