First day of school

I don't remember my first day of kindergarten.  I've tried to in the last several days, to try and ease Jordan's mind about her first day, but I couldn't come up with anything.  I think my parents took me or maybe it was my grandparents.  I don't know for sure.  It's funny how such a big milestone just sort of sinks to the back of your brain and gets buried under other memories and events you experience as you grow older.  I'm sure the same thing will happen to Jordan over the years.  She won't remember how nervous she was or who she sat beside at her table today or that her mom and I were the only parents that cried when we left.

My dad asked me how it went when we dropped Jordan off at her class and I told him that Jordan was fine, but Davina and I were the ones that were upset.  It was quite similar to the first day we dropped her off at daycare when she was six months old.  We both cried and the day was miserable.  The big difference this time is that Davina went to work and I went back to the hotel that I stay in when I come to visit Jordan in Texas.  Davina and I won't be meeting for lunch today like we did five years ago.  We won't text back and forth to check on each other like we did five years ago.  She'll go to work. I'll kill time until I pick up Jordan from school and then I'll drop her off with Davina and I'll drive eight hours back to Tennessee.

I know Jordan will be fine after a few weeks at a new school.  She'll get to know her classmates and I'll hear stories about her friends and who she wants to marry.  And life will continue to progress for her and she'll have conquered a new challenge and it will have made her more resilient.  I wish the same were true for me.

  

Waverly Drive

Tonight, my daughter and I went to my parents' house after we ate dinner.  It was early evening and a little cooler than it had been the past few weeks.  We walked into the backyard so she could see my dad's dog in his pen and then she went to where my mom has (creepily) buried her three cats who have passed away.  A few weeks ago a mole had started tracking through their backyard and the damn thing dug its way right through where my mom's cat, Hope, had been buried.  It was fitting, I guess, that the mole had chosen to dig its way through Hope's grave since Hope was an absolute freak.  She was the kind of cat whose eyes were ALWAYS huge.  It's like she was on a constant hunt; like her adrenal glands were incessantly active.  She could never sit still and none (I mean none) of my mom's other four (yes, I said four) cats could stand her.  She was a crazy bitch and everybody knew it.  It was fitting that an underground rodent chose to ravage the grave of the feline black sheep of the family.  It's like nature knew that no one would really give a shit about Hope's grave...except for my daughter, Jordan.  Every cat is redeemable in Jordan's eyes.  She is the infinite giver of grace to neurotic animals.  It bothered her greatly that Hope's grave had been defamed.  She began to trace the track of the mole and finally started to imitate it and imagine how it would burrow its way through another yard.  She led me to my parents' neighbor's house that has since been sold to the hospital and is currently vacant.  Once she hit the carport, she made a quick right to where a concrete walkway led through a backyard, past a clothesline, and to the back fence that connected the backyard with another backyard.  I realized, as I followed Jordan on the walk, that I hadn't set foot in this backyard since I was young.  I tried to remember exactly how old I was and I could only land myself in a range between nine and eleven, which turns out to be about twenty-one years ago. 

For my entire childhood, that house belonged to the Oakley sisters.  They were two retired school teachers who never married and, from what I remember, were pretty different from each other.  Their names were Faye and Louise.  Once, Faye completely acted like a snitch and told my mom I was saying the word "butt" when, in fact, I couldn't say my "r's" and was simply trying to tell her about "Butt and Ernie" from Sesame Street.  Suffice to say, Faye was actually the nice one.  Or maybe in my memory she's the nice one because her face was more round than Louise's and her hair was a little whiter than Louise's salt and pepper, oily locks.  Louise's face was long and thin, like any picture of a witch I had seen on movies or in books.  Faye looked more like the fairy god-mother from those same stories.  They would let me ride my bicycle in their driveway and let me play ball in their part of the yard that joined ours.  They would cook cabbage and bring me some to eat, which I did because I didn't know any better.  I was the only child on a street where the average age of its occupants was close to 60 and it was great.  Any attention that these residents couldn't give their own grandchildren, they thrust on me. 

As I followed Jordan down that path to the back gate, I saw the house I grew up from a perspective that I hadn't seen it from in twenty years.  If you time it just right and every sensory effect lines up perfectly, you can almost trick your mind into believing that you're where you were when you burned this sensation in your brain.  Many people call this deja vu, but that's a subconcious experience where your mind is tricking you.  In this case, I was tricking my mind.  It's the closest to time travel that I'll ever get and I felt like I did twenty years ago...just for a moment.  The sight of my daughter to my left quickly brought me back and we made our way to the back fence.  I showed her where my friend, Richard, lived.  I showed the yard of my Spanish teacher that I used to mow.  Directly behind my house, I showed her the first house where I lived from the time I was six months old until I was six years old.  I also realized that I had never taken Jordan to that street and let her walk down it just the way I did when I was her age.



27 Waverly Drive



We made our way to Waverly Drive and as soon as I stepped on it and we began to walk, I knew it wouldn't be hard to deceive my mind and I knew a flood of inconsequential memories would start to pepper my brain.  We walked under a tree  where I used to ride my bike.  I saw the old basketball goal at my friend's house and remembered the games we would play on a cold, December day and the feeling of trying to shoot a ball with three layers of clothes weighing you down.  We stopped in front of my old house and I could see the tree where I made a spaceship out of an old refergirator box and I painted it blue.  The realization of that memory took me by surprise because I had forgotten it happened.  I saw where the willow tree used to be and I remembered that I played with my He-Man toys under that tree one Saturday.  My thoughts took me into the house where the layout slowly came into focus and I could see that house as it used to be. 

I realized how important it is to be grounded in something, to be able to pull your past back to your present.  It's nice to go back to who you used to be sometimes.  As I watched Jordan walk down my old street and in front of my old house, I found myself hoping that she has strong experiences and memories that she can call upon one day.  I also prayed that she wouldn't be as connected to her past as I seem to be.  I hope she has the wisdom to appreciate what helped shape her, but the strength to not let those things hold her in their nostalgic web.  I hope she has the ability trick her mind sometimes into thinking she's somehwere else, but the maturity to know that those things are gone and what lies ahead is far more important than those things that are in the ground. 

Message in a (Cyber) Bottle

This will be my first post in close to five years.  In the last five years, I have been through a divorce, changed jobs, sold my house, watched Brett Favre retire, then un-retire, then retire, then un-retire, and then get humiliated in his final season and retire once again.  I have lived in an apartment now longer than I have ever lived in any of my homes that I once owned.  If you think my last five years have been challenging, or even close to depressing, I would say that you're close to being correct. 

My counselor encouraged  me to start journaling...to try and be more transparent with myself and with others.  I tried writing my thoughts down on paper and even typing them, but my mind tends to try and create stories from my experiences and then launches itself into the past to try and connect my current trials to something I've experienced at an earlier stage in my life.  I seem to be irreparably hooked to my past.  I'm sure there's a word for it or a psychological theory to describe someone like me...someone who remembers nearly everything and sees it clearly and still feels it unmistakably, even though, lately, some of those memories have dissolved into just feelings or hazy, sepia toned frames that click through like a film projector.  Regardless of how worn those memories have become, they're still there, like scar tissue underneath skin.  Not visible, but effective in hindering the healing process, no less. 

This blog is my compromise.  I want to tell to stories.  I want the hope of someone reading them at some point in time, somewhere in the world.  I want to give them a context of my life...snapshots of things that are real and that were real.  If you read this, you probably stumbled upon it by accident.  If you're someone who used to read it and we've lost touch over the years, I hope that you're well and I'm glad that I'm sharing part of my life with you again. 

Revival

I've put off writing about this for some time because I don't want to jinx it. Last fall, a majority of my blogs consisted of my fascination/obsession/disappointment of Brett Favre and the Green Bay Packers. Last New Year's Eve after Brett cried on national television after the Bears' game, I was convinced that he was through. On Super Bowl week-end, though, he announced he was coming back for more. I made up mind at that point that I would not miss one play of this season, no matter how bad it was or how good it was. I resigned myself to the fact that this truly would be his last season. In September, I ordered Direct TV so I could get the NFL package and I have not missed one play of the Packers' ten games this year. They have won nine of those games and probably should've won the one they lost, but I can't complain. Favre has had a revival this year. If it wasn't for Tom Brady's ridiculous year, I think Brett would be the leading candidate for MVP. It would be his fourth, which would be a record. Speaking of records, this year he has broken the record for most wins, most touchdowns, most completions, most attempts, and most interceptions. And he's not doing it because he's just hanging around. He's winning games. Two of my favorite Packer regular season games happened this year: the San Diego upset in week three when Favre hit Greg Jennings on a slant to win the game with just under two minutes left and the overtime touchdown pass to Jennings on Monday night football in Denver a few weeks ago. The first ten games have helped lift the Packers to their best start since Lombardi walked the sidelines at Lambeau.

It's Thanksgiving Day and the Packers play the Lions in about two hours. I'm not sure how this season will end, but I'm trying not to think about that right now. I'm trying enjoy each game because I know that I don't have that many more left to watch Brett Favre play. I don't know how far they'll go in the play offs this year or if they'll even make it. They could collapse today and lose the rest of their games, but I don't think that will happen. I don't know what will happen and that's the dichotomy of being a sports fan: the moment always seems bigger than it is whether it's good or bad. That's also the beauty of sports: there's always next week or next year and you keep holding onto that, waiting for the perfect season or that magical game. This has been my most enjoyable season as a Packer fan since I started following them in 1993. I think the reason is that the expectations weren't that great for this team coming into this year. I was just hoping that Green Bay would play some important December games and maybe make the play offs. Well, here we are: 9-1 in November, tied for first in the NFC with the Cowboys. I don't know where it's going or where it will end up, but I know that I'll look back on this season at some point down the road and know that it was special...or at least had the chance to be.

Back For More

I was pretty sure that no one read this blog even when I updated it semi-regularly last fall and into the winter, but now I'm positive that if there was the faint bit of interest in it, it's gone because I haven't written a new post since the beginning of June. The thing is, though, is that I don't think I've ever really written anything on here with the intention of someone else reading it...I guess I've written it with the only audience in mind being myself. I know that sounds somewhat arrogant, but I'm probably somewhat arrogant, so there you go.

I guess probably in the last month I've wanted/needed to write something on here, even though I'm not sure if any of the posts would've had any point to them or had any direction whatsoever. And basically I can feel myself slipping into a disjointed post as I'm typing this sentence, so let's focus this right now before it gets completely scattered.

I never realized how much I need my left ring finger. No, I need it. I know "need" is a strong word, but hear me out. For the last two years, I have worked out consistently. I've probably not had longer than 10 days away from the gym. Now, looking at me you probably wouldn't think that. I'm not big, I don't have big muscles, my chest doesn't stick through my shirt, but I've always worked out. I don't do it to look a certain way (maybe I do a little), but I do it because there are some things you just need to physically work out of your body. Things that maybe you don't know how to get out emotionally. Maybe types of stress that build up and the only way to get them out is to run or, in my case, lift. Maybe you feel a little bit better about yourself when you look in a mirror and you look pretty good. Maybe you feel good because you're healthy and you have energy and you feel strong. Maybe it's all of that stuff, but I can't really describe in words the feeling I have after I have a good work-out...I just know that when I leave the gym, I've left a lot of other stuff there that I carried in with me. I also can measure tangibly how much I am improving in the gym. There's a competition with myself that I'm constantly trying to win. I'm trying to one-up myself from a week ago or a month ago or a year ago. There's a sense of accomplishment when I consistently improve on my past performances. I say all that, to say that I haven't been able to do any of that in the last three weeks. I broke my left ring finger three weeks ago playing flag football. Turns out, I broke in the worst way possible. Basically, the piece of bone beside my joint that holds another bone in place, shattered and tore some tendons along with it meaning the only way to fix it would be to have it surgically repaired. I had surgery two weeks ago today and I've been to two therapy sessions trying to regain mobility in my finger. I essentially have no grip in my left hand right now. I probably have only 75% of my grip with my right hand because I broke my right ring finger in college (but not nearly as bad) and never got it fixed.

I never quite grasped the importance (at least for me personally) of physical exercise. Its effects are rarely seen when consistently used, but when it is absent from my life, I find how much I depend on it. Having said that, I'm not sure if that's good or bad. I guess everyone needs an outlet. I'm a physical person: I have a lot of energy, I like to do things, I like to be active. It's only natural that my outlet involves physical activity.

This week I was able to get back in the gym for the first time since I broke my finger. It's been sort of like starting over, but I can already feel myself getting back to normal.

A Few Favorites

I've been meaning to post about some of the stuff I've been into lately, but I just haven't had time. I'm making some time now. First things first: "The Office" is the best show on television, hands down. Actually, since I only watch two ("Lost" is the other one) I guess I don't have a lot to go on. But I'd be willing to bet that "The Office" is the best show on television. Now that that's out of the way...let's move on. If I was leaving tomorrow and couldn't carry my ipod and only could carry five books and five cd's (and a cd player, of course, with unlimited batteries) here are the ones I would carry (in order from best to not best):

Books: "The Great Gatsby" by F. Scott Fitzgerald, "A Widow for One Year" by John Irving, "The Hotel New Hampshire" by John Irving, "Joe Dimaggio: A Hero's Life" by Richard Ben Cramer, "Forever" by Pete Hamil.

Albums: "Cold Roses" by Ryan Adams, "Across A Wire: Double Live Album" by Counting Crows, "The River" by Bruce Springsteen, "DwightYoakamacoustic.net" by Dwight Yoakam, "9 Crimes" by Damien Rice.

Some movies I've seen recently (within the last four months): Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Stranger Than Fiction, Garden State, The Illusionist, Down in the Valley, The Proposition, Winter Passing, Fracture, Pirates of the Carribean: The Curse of the Black Pearl, The Great Gatsby, Ghost Rider (terrible)

You should check out a singer named Brandi Carlile...just bought her cd "The Story"...good stuff. Also, Ryan Adams has a new one coming out at the end of the month that everyone is saying is his best yet. Anyway, sorry this is so random. I'll try and get some pics up soon.

Cyclical

I wrote a post a year ago today talking about the end of the school year and graduation. I can't believe a year has gone by that fast, and last night, I found myself once again chaperoning project graduation and thinking the same things I thought last year. I've said before that I love working in the education field because there are definite beginnings and endings to each year. There are certain feelings that go along with each part of each year, but the thing I love most is that you can measure each year for what it is. You can compare one year to another. Barring any unfortunate incidents in these next two weeks, I would have to say this has been my favorite year of the four years I've been at my school. This has also been the most challenging year.

I am the middle school guidance counselor at the school where I work. I also teach two upper school Psychology classes, so I feel like am very involved in both the upper and middle school. During the fall, I feel sharp and on top of everything. I am very energetic and this year was no different. The first three months of the year were very crisp and tight. I attended a coaching convention in St. Louis and my wife and I went to New York for five days in October. Basketball season started in October, as well, and I enjoyed this season more than the previous three. When Christmas arrived, I couldn't have asked for a better first semester.

The begninning of January is the second busiest time of the year for me. We register seventh and eighth grade students for tests and then give the tests and collect the tests and send them off and wait to get them back and then mail them out to the families. We also have the DUKE talent test for seventh grade students that takes place the third Saturday in January. We usually spend a week reviewing them for the test. January always flies by. This year my wife and I also had our first baby on January 22. On the 29th, we finished out our middle school season in a great way...you can read about it here. Three days later, our school lost one of its students. The year never really fell back into rythym after that. February and March sort of floated by while we tried to figure out what our new "normal" was going to be. In April, I helped chaperone our 8th grade trip to New York and for the last week and half, I've been doing make-up standardized tests.

Last Friday night our Upper School had its awards night. For two and a half hours, we listened to the achievements of our students. The list was quite impressive. At the end, we watched a photo slide show of the student who passed away in February. Had it only been three months since that had happened? It felt like three years. We had become used to our new normal and that's all you can really hope for, I guess. As a collective group, we had picked up the pieces and moved on as best we could. The slide show brought back a little of the feeling of those few days in February when I was exhausted from being a new father and exhausted from the emotion that pressed itself on the school for those few weeks after the accident. I think sometimes we need to be reminded of those times that push us or challenge us, so that they don't become silent pictures in our heads.

Each year brings its own events and personality, but the skeleton outline is always the same. It's always cyclical. I think that's why I like education so much...because I hate change. I love knowing what to expect each year, but also knowing that each year will bring its own challenges.

Disappearing Act

My principal is retiring at the end of this year. She hired me four years ago and working under her has been very rewarding both professionally and personally. We have a lot in common even though she's close to forty years older than I am. I remember being in the hospital back in January when Jordan was born and texting my principal. I mean, how cool is it that a sixty-something year old texts. That's just how she is. There have been many afternoons over the past four years where I've sat in her office and talked about music, our fascination with cults, or just listened to her stories about her life. She tells great stories. Two days ago, we talked in her office after school for one of the last times, I'm sure. Our topics ranged from computers to Charles Manson and finally to losing touch with people from our past.

What was most interesting about the last part of our conversation was how different our perspectives were on people who we haven't seen in awhile. Even though there's a considerable age gap between us and she's from another generation, it's never felt that way until that afternoon. She was talking about how many people she has lost contact with from her past. We both agreed that it was like people just vanish from the face of the earth when you lose contact, but the difference in my generation and her generation is the means of communication. With the evolution of the Internet and my space and blogs and basically any search engine, you can find people that have "vanished" and pull them back to the present if you want to (and if they want to). Who hasn't ever been bored and decided to plug random names from the past into Google or my space and see what pops up? She told me she wouldn't really know where to begin with something like that.

The more I've thought about it, though, the more I question whether or not this access to finding people is a good thing. Sometimes when people "vanish" or just fade away over time it's best to leave them there. I'm beginning to think that certain people only fit in certain contexts of my life and to try and bring them back or reconnect with them would leave me disappointed. I think there's a circle of friends and family that stay with you throughout your life. And every time you see them, you pick back up from where you were the last time you were together. Then there are others who fall along the way or disappear and it's best to let them go. I've tried to hold on to more than a few people for nothing more than nostalgic purposes and, more often than not, we seem to lose touch anyway.

I guess that's why our brains are designed to remember emotional experiences. The people that are worth remembering will always be somewhere in my mind. And over time parts of those memories will pull a disappearing act, but the ones that are most important will stay where they are. The people who have vanished are somewhere else now and I'm sure (if I was important enough) I've got a place somewhere in there memories as well.