To a Good Kid (Part II)

More excerpts from old yearbooks. These are from 9th grade. "When I came to Assumption I didn't know anyone but you talked to me." Translation: you're a giant loser who has to pounce on new students. "Well I am running out of things to say." Translation: I wish yearbooks had call waiting. "It has been a real experience knowing you." Translation: I will be a politician someday. "Epsilon is within us all." Translation: no idea. "Lay off the heavy drugs you're going downhill" Finally, someone with the guts to confront me. "You're a lot of fun but boy you're a pain when you're in a rotten mood." Yeah, that's right, there had never been a moody adolescent until I came along.

This Christmas

I've always been nostalgic, but as the holidays bear down upon us I seem to be even more so than usual. I blame Facebook, and the way people from my distant past have been adding me at an unprecedented rate over the past few months. I'm not complaining - it's been really nice even if one or two of the requests were puzzling. I guess enough time has finally passed for me to forgive and forge... well, forgive anyway. I also blame the innate nostalgia of the holiday season, which is always pushing us to figure out a way to fit our memories into the collective holiday experience (and spend money).

Christmas was always a big deal in my family, and though we didn't have a lot of money you'd never know by looking in on our Christmas. It started weeks before, of course, with my mom baking cookies and pie crusts, and dad getting the tree and putting up the lights. Frank Sinatra sang in the background, or maybe Fred Waring and his Pennsylvanians. My brother and I would sit on the couch armed with the current Sears catalogue and color coded magic markers. I want this! Oooh, I want this! Me too! The bizarre thing is that my parents pretty much ignored everything we circled but still managed to figure out something we'd like even better.

Christmas day was, of course, crazy. We'd get up early and fidget while my dad got his coffee and mom looked for the Instamatic. We'd open the presents and clean up the mess, then get ready to go to my grandparents' house for dinner. After dinner we'd drive out to Fairmount to my other grandparents' house, sometimes when it was already dark and the Christmas lights looked extra magical. Then it was home, to play with our new toys for as long as we could hold out before falling asleep.

Our Christmases followed the same basic template for my entire childhood, and now when people ask me if I remember a particular Christmas, I have to say no because they all blend into one. Sure I remember the year we got stuck in a blizzard less than 200 feet from home, or the year it was warm enough to play basketball in our driveway, but I can't remember if it happened I was 4 or 14.

Now, decades later, Christmas is another beast entirely and that's not a bad thing. It's still madcap, and I still love each and every one.

To a Good Kid

Presented for your amusement are these excerpts from my 8th grade yearbook. If the overwhelming consensus is to be believed, I was apparently "a good kid" with "a great personality" - flattering, yes, but kind of at odds with my vivid memories of being an outcast. Enjoy!

To a nice kid and I hope you will stay that way - Cindy (nice enough on the surface but with a vaguely threatening undertone) You are decent and nice. Don't drink coffee and you might grow taller. - Sue (the hell? I wasn't short) Try not to act so goofy in high school or people will think something is seriously wrong with you. - Elaine (whoa) Remember to always control yourself. - Mark (no clue what this means) Hope your high school years are your happiest. - Carol (Thanks for nothing, Carol) Vote for me for best looking or you're dead! - Rodney (isn't it too late for that if you're holding the yearbook?) Say hello to your mother for me. - Kathy (nothing says "cool" like people giving your mom a shout-out when they sign your yearbook)

Soup Night II

Here's the video from November's Soup Night - it's quite a bit better than last month's video thanks to fine work by Guest Director Finn and Guest Cinematographer Monique.

Titanic Days

You'd think that month-long gaps between posts might mean I'm busy doing exciting, meaningful things. And you'd be wrong. I've been working and watching scary movies on YouTube. I did manage to tear myself away from the computer long to visit the Titanic exhibit in Rochester, which was a surprisingly intimate experience considering the subject matter was so epic. The exhibit focused on the personal effects found in the wreckage which belonged to passengers - clothes, toiletry items, and a remarkable number of paper items such as postcards, receipts and letters. There was also a lot of information about the daily routine of the ship, including menus from the restaurant and cabin decor. It was an interesting exhibit but sad, as the small scale of the artifacts brought the historic tragedy down to a personal level and made it rawer than something that happened a century ago should be.

Soup Night - October 2009

For some reason I really struggled with this little film. An annoyingly low percentage of the footage I shot was any good, and the scenes that did make the cut refused to come together the way I wanted them to. Boo! But it's (yet) another learning experience, and the next one will be better.

Welcome Home Chickens!