An absurd little bird

...is popping up to say cuckoo. Cuckoo! Cuckoo! This is me dipping my toe back into the blogging pond. Helloooooo! Anyone out there?

I've missed this, missed you.

The Sound of Music is in the air around here ever since Sam began his role as Friedrich, the oldest von Trapp boy, for his middle school musical not long ago. He rocked it. Plus, he was a true team player and all around good sport*.  Here are a few selected moments for the grandparents and others who asked. Please excuse the iphone video quality (and if only I had turned the camera the right way...).

Oh, and I want to give a shout out to Madi, our Maria, who was amazing.
Hard to believe that's a 13-year-old girl singing those notes. 

Listen carefully for a Friedrich solo at the end:

My mom and aunts loaned many of the dirndls shown here. Thank you!
Another Friedrich solo here:* 

*First, they gave him the high notes, which is not necessarily thrilling news for a 13-year-old boy. Sam has a pretty low speaking voice but he has a terrific ear and falsetto so they made him gave him the opportunity to use it. The director said that his favorite part of the whole play was when Sam did the octave jump for: Good night! (you can hear my chuckle and scattered applause on that last video if you listen closely).

Good sport item #2: They rented the sailor costumes from a theater and when they arrived one of the boys' outfits was too small for both of the boys. By a few years. Since the other (younger) boy was a little bigger width-wise, Sam got stuck with the small one. You'll see. There are some Winnie-the-Pooh moments.

Good sport item #3: Take a look at the play clothes made from curtains. They made floral suspenders and pinned them to their shirts. Tightly. He was, however, delighted that he escaped wearing lederhosen. You've got to draw the line somewhere.

Cinema Francais

In 8th grade all of the middle school students in our town construct a building for a French or Spanish or Chinese village, depending on what language they're taking. They draw the building assignment randomly and it is with great seriousness and excitement that the assignments are made and buildings constructed. The towns sit proudly on display in our library for several weeks afterwards.

Sam came home with the assignment to build a French cinema. He knew right away he wanted it to be a corner building with little movie posters and iron balconies. I think it's pretty wonderful. I'd love to live in the top story.

Being the third child does have its advantages! By now we have learned all the little lessons about early planning and lightweight materials and adhesives. Most of all, we know that this is a BIG deal at the school--every year there's a poor kid who, unaware,  builds a lego building and calls it good.  Turns out the bar at our little over-achieving school is a little higher than that.

Lucky for me, G is the chief assistant on these projects and I think Lauren, Maddy and Sam will each have fond memories of the month of evenings spent together with him transforming their visions to reality.  I am so glad this is G's specialty. Give me the task of daily homework oversight and I'll gladly hand big, hives-inducing projects to patient, tool-savvy G.

Speaking of cinema and France, have you seen Hugo yet? We loved it. And Sam was happy to think of his cinema fitting right in.  I just want to know if his cinema serves chocolat viennois because that would make it just about perfect.

. . .

p.s. If you want to take a peek at what G and I will be talking about in one or two decades, here's your glimpse. No kidding.

Time Travel Music

Tomorrow Maddy and I are going to the Boston Ballet's production of Prokoviev's Romeo & Juliet. Years ago (um...23 years? can that be right?) I was a sophomore at one universaity and G was a student at another university several hours away. We weren't the Montagues and Capulets but we were in the very beginnings of liking each other very very much, torn apart by miles and college mascots and student poverty.

(This is not us^)

Well. My mom also really liked G and took pity on our separated plight. She bought the family tickets to Romeo & Juliet, offered one to me and one to G, and we all met in the middle in Salt Lake City. I gussied myself up for an evening at the ballet in a black velvet skirt borrowed from my roommate and a high collared blouse (paging Laura Ashley...); G suited up and looked especially dashing. We were unabashedly thrilled to see each other, G and I, grinning and blushing and sending off all sorts of young love vibes, I'm sure.

Can music break your heart wide open? I think yes. Hat tip to Prokoviev. I can't listen to that music without time traveling to that perfect night.

. . .

Which made me think. What other songs take me directly to certain moments in my life? What songs would have to be on my life's soundtrack? Here are a few I came up with, listed chronologically. Keep in mind I didn't really have control over which songs would become important; some of them are pretty silly. The song chooses us, not the other way around! (Here's a link to the playlist if you happen to want to listen to any of these.)

1. Help (The Beatles): I vividly remember dancing in front of our sofa to this song, kicking up my legs with every "Help!" 
2. Don't It Make My Brown Eyes Blue (Crystal Gayle): This was on the radio when I went with my dad to pick up our babysitter and I suddenly realized it wasn't "doughnuts make my brown eyes blue."
3. Annie's Song (John Denver): I thought this was for me. True.
4. Copacabana (Barry Manilow): My friend Teri, my brother Matt and I would put together whole lip-synched, choreographed programs. Copacabana was featured often. I was a showgirl.
5. Adagio for Strings (Barber): This was the first classical piece I remember being floored by. My parents told me it was played at JFK's funeral and I played it over and over on our turntable. I liked how sad it made me feel. Sometimes I could even muster tears.
6. We Make a Beautiful Pair (Shenandoah): My mom played the harp in the HS musical productions and this was one of my favorites. We had the sheet music and Matt and I would sing it together. Years later I sang it with my mom and sister Nancy at my wedding brunch.
7. Don't You Want Me (The Human League): One summer my cousin Isaac and I sang this as a duet over and over. It reminds me of swimming pools and hot un-airconditioned cars and singing my heart out.
8. The Gap (Thompson Twins): I went to a girl's camp called Academy for Girls (kind of an EFY but just for girls). Our group did a dance to this song for the talent show.
9. Almost Paradise (Mike Reno/Ann Wilson): My mom would tell you I played this NONSTOP on a family trip to Mexico. She would be right. I was really in love with love.
10. Rhapsody on a Theme from Paganini (Rachmaninoff): The neighbor boy would play this at the end of his piano practicing, his signal that I should come over. Me and Pavlov's dogs, so easily trained and conditioned. 
11. O! Mio Babbino Caro from Gianni Schicchi (Puccini): My first date with G was after this opera; I was an usher and he played the bass in the orchestra. It was dreamy.
12. Romeo bids Juliet Farewell (Prokofiev): See above.
13. The Promise (When in Rome): To counterbalance all the gushing, I'll confess that this was playing on the stereo in the car during one of our worst dates ever. I was irritated, he was clueless and bewildered why I was irritated. We survived.
14. Bullet the Blue Sky (U2): I ran to this song every single day in London for six months. Whenever I hear "pelting the women and children" I can smell car exhaust and feel like running really hard around a park.
15. Could I Have This Dance (Anne Murray): The awesome and quirky big band at our wedding reception played this for our first dance. So kitchy, so corny. We laughed and went with it.

Okay, that's enough for now.

So, friends. What about you? What music makes you time travel to a specific moment, a certain memory?

. . .

Today I'm grateful for blue skies, pears on the early side of ripe, putting things in perspective, and this song (from the classic An Affair to Remember) that my mom always sang us as a lullaby

Lately, my dear

I'm finally feeling like I'm back for real after fighting a post-trip cold for a good many days. And I finally feel like I have both feet in October. The leaves are extraordinarily late turning colors this year so it has still felt a bit like September to me.

I pulled out some of the Halloween decorations. That helped. And I had a birthday on Saturday (I have always loved my October birthday), a lovely day where I went on a long fall walk with Madeleine and Louie, G went grocery shopping with my wishlist, and we all went to lunch. And then I took a delicious birthday afternoon nap. October, you are more real to me now.

Yesterday I was chatting with Lauren on the phone and she asked "so, what's new there?" and I drew an utter and complete blank. It feels like we have kind of groove going and it's boringly (but satisfyingly) placid. No funny stories or mishaps lately. No big epiphanies. But I do feel like I dropped the conversational ball there and owe her a little more of a glimpse of home. So here's my do-over. Here we are, just doing what we do, every day:

Sam reads the paper, quizzes us on current events, practices & composes on piano, figures out more songs on the ukelele. Sometimes we don't know where he is in the middle of the afternoon and find him asleep in his bed with his headphones on and a book open by his side. He's playing basketball and refereeing soccer again this year (and loves the income that generates). I think one of his greatest joys is when I make a planned out, full-on family meal when everyone's home. He's so effusive in his praise and gratitude on those occasions that I really should do it more often. He likes Johnny Cash and is excited that the new Coldplay album is coming out. He just read the new Rick Riordan book over the weekend and re-read The Giver.

Maddy eats a banana every morning on her way to seminary. She's slowly adapting her new room to suit her and can usually be found nestled in her lovesac/chair listening to music and writing letters or reading. She's still that gal who is seminary president and student senate leader and model UNer and Mia Maid class president and assistant violin group teacher. You know, the one who raises her hand to volunteer for everything and has a list of other clubs she'd love to join if she had the time. She loves to take notes and smell good and laugh with friends and dress with flair and eat mashed potatoes and caesar salad (not at all the same time). She just finished The Catcher in the Rye and is now reading Song of Solomon.

As you know, most of Dad's time is spent: 1) working (7:30 to 7), 2) bishoping (bishopping?), 3) being a dad and husband. As you also know, he's a good good man who does all of these wholeheartedly. He plays basketball every Saturday morning with some dads from here in the neighborhood, goes running and makes his own lunches every morning, putters around the garden when he has a few moments to spare. He got a kindle at a work retreat so I'm not sure what he's reading right now since I don't see the cover any more but it's probably a good spy thriller or mystery. 

And you know about me: this blog pretty much covers that. I just read Falling Together and The Night Circus and just started Unbroken. One of my favorite times of the day is after dinner when we all plop on the couches in the family room and read, talk, and laugh. Dad looks through the newspaper and we all catch up on our day and read a chapter or two of scriptures. Louie burrows underfoot and fights for the blankets. Sometimes we watch The Amazing Race or The Sing-Off.  These are especially the times I still look around for you and listen for your laugh.

So, that's what I meant to say when you asked. We love you immensely and, while (as you and I talked about yesterday) things have probably changed a bit for all of us in your absence, there's still a Lauren space right here all the time. xo

Remembering

Ten years ago.

It's amazing how our minds can retain such tiny details of the where-were-you variety. I remember the almost achingly beautiful blue-skied September day outside of Washington, DC. It was my first child-free day in eight years. I had just dropped off Sam for his first-ever day of preschool and (for some reason, on this first day of freedom) had scheduled a yearly doctor's exam. In the parking lot of the ob/gyn, I heard the first reports of the 1st plane on the radio. At that point, they still weren't sure what was going on & I remember thinking, oh! those people in the plane and the building!, and sending up a silent prayer.

By the time I got in to the doctor's office, the second plane had hit. Then while I was there, a plane hit the Pentagon a few miles away. The mood in the office was tense and quiet. Two women frantically called their husbands, who worked in the Pentagon. Everyone was on their cell phones. Greg worked at a law firm just north and east of the White House and heard all sorts of rumors as he tried to figure out how to get out of the city, including an announcement on the PA system in his building that a plane was headed their direction & to evacuate immediately. He ended up walking through DC, then eventually catching a metro home.

I thought I had protected our kids (then ages 3-8) from the brunt of the terrifying images and news. But that night I took Maddy with me to the grocery store. It was deserted. Maddy noticed and said sadly "there's nobody here. Did everyone die today, Mom?"

I feel conflicted writing this. We were not directly affected and I know there are hundreds of people who have experienced prolonged sorrow from the events of 9/11. I hope that our collective memories and attention on this day give comfort and love rather than bring back pain for all those who lost somebody.

One of my kids said [once] when we were talking about this, "I remember feeling so loved that day. Everyone who knew us called to check on us [which is true, even people we hadn't heard from in years managed to find us and make sure we were okay]. I felt so surrounded by love." It reminded me of this Anne Frank quote I have always loved and that surfaced in my mind on that day [ten] years ago:

"It’s utterly impossible for me to build my life on a foundation of chaos, suffering and death. I see the world being slowly transformed into a wilderness...And yet, when I look up at the sky, I somehow feel that everything will change for the better, that this cruelty too shall end, that peace and tranquility will return once more...It’s a wonder I haven’t abandoned all my ideals, they seem so absurd and impractical. Yet I cling to them because I still believe, in spite of everything, that people are truly good at heart."

[Originally posted here. I still feel the same way.]

p.s. New York magazine has had some wonderful coverage including the kindergarten class of PS 150's recounting of their memories and a powerful and heartbreaking slideshow of missing persons posters.