A few assorted thoughts

Nothing random here.

Since my closest friend since college is named Steve Brown, my life has suddenly gotten less confusing.

Is it just me, or is Pinnacle a strange name for a flooring company?

One of the nice things about having an outspoken young adult daughter at home (and yes, there are nice things about that) is that she feels completely free to tell me if she thinks the way I am dressing is inappropriate. Most recently, she told me that the slightly tight t-shirt and corduroy shorts made me look gay. And the way she said it was, "I know you're secure in your sexuality, but..."

Now I'm not sure exactly what the problem with that is. aside from the fact that I'm not gay. I don't think that the way I dress has ever disturbed or confused anyone. And by extension, how should I dress? Like a normal person? If you asked me for the top 10 adjectives I would use to describe myself, normal would not appear among them. Any similarity between me and a normal person are purely intentional, so I guess I could and do dress that way sometimes, but I don't want to be stuck with it.

School without students

This year is finally over. It somehow felt both endless and as if it was flying by.

Spent a couple of days in school doing so-called in-service. For anyone who's curious, and who wouldn't be, this involves a combination of planned activities like large group meetings, small group meetings, writing report cards, and cleaning up. Kind of like summer camp, just without the fun.

I don't really mind most of this stuff, aside from the large meetings, but I find it kind of depressing being around a school with no kids here. On the occasion that a student pops in to drop off a book or something, it brightens my day.

Without breaking any of the major teacher secrets, here's what goes on during our in-service. On the first day, we arrive at school around 8 and are provided with enough coffee and sweet breakfast pastries to keep a 3 year-old awake and running in circles for several months. Then we go into the largest classroom to sit still and meet for abut 3 hours straight.

What do we talk about? Well, I'm genuinely trying to remember but I can't. Kudos for something to someone. Thanks for years of service. More comfortable places to sit somewhere. I don't know! I have a mental block with meetings.

At one point I was recruited to take notes, and did what was probably the worst job ever because I lack the span of either attention or interest (or both) to follow a whole discussion where 10 or more people participate about any topic, worthy or not, that doesn't directly involve me. And since part of my general code of behavior requires me to avoid involvement in everything other than my own business, that describes the vast majority or meeting topics.

I can't say that I'm proud of myself for behaving this way, but I'm not ashamed of myself either.

I think part of the discussion was how to make students like the school more. It makes me think of an old interview with the writer Fran Lebowitz, where she was asked if she thought we should be making school more entertaining. No, she replied, what we should be doing is making it more educational.

Not just another graduation

I guess because I'm a class advisor I felt a special closeness with this bunch of seniors, and there are many of them that I know pretty well and am genuinely fond of. So watching everyone get ready was really fun.

I got asked to hold stuff- gowns, purses, umbrellas, "spit that out now" gum- whatever they needed. Getting them ready for their class picture had a herding cats-like feel to it, but they were all so happy that it never got annoying. It was raining and one girl was late because she was trapped in her car with no umbrella to protect her hair. Then, when the rain let up, her heels were so high she had to walk verrrrrry slooooowly into the auditorium.

My favorite picture comment was someone who was the youngest child in a family celebrating that they would finally have a picture on the mantle along with all of their older siblings' graduation photos.

Then I went upstairs to the sanctuary and chatted with parents, graduates, other teachers for quite a while until it was time to start, at which time it was just my job to make sure all the teachers had places to sit. Here are my stray observations from the inner periphery.

The students had been given sheets of paper with their names in order to reserve seats. It was interesting to try to create a psychological profile of someone based on where they chose to have their family sit. It would have been funny if someone had put their families scattered about instead of all together.

One of my favorite moments was when a speaker asked the students to stand unexpectedly (and unreahearsedly). Since all the girls in the front row we instructed to sit with their ankles crossed, the boys stood right up while I watched the girls all uncross their ankles and then stand. When they were seated they all re-crossed them.

I guess since I was sitting with my head around the stage level, I had a good view of footwear. Some of the smaller girls were more comfortable with their stature than others, and so wore relatively flat shoes. Others wore big platforms. And maybe it's just me, but those big chunky espadrilles with all the ties wrapped around the ankles end up looking kind of like shredded Chucks.

The student speakers were all excellent. A couple of them really made me well up a bit.

The keynote speech was the only one that really sounded like a regular kind of speech. I'm more of a fan of the kinds of speech given by the late David Foster Wallace (now a book called This Is Water). I can never sit through one of these without writing a keynote speech in my head. I actually came up with enough stuff that I wrote it down when I got home.

From a teacher's perspective, it's always kind of strange to see people that you spent a lot of time with and got, if not close, then at least extremely comfortable with over 4 or 5 years just exiting your life. It's sad and exciting at the same time. It does drive home how unusual the teacher/student relationships that grow at this school are. There's no real relationship box to put them in. It's not a friendship exactly but it's far more than just teacher/mentor. It's kind of like parenting except without its inherent overwhelming always and forever responsibility. The awkwardness of it shows up, for me at least, in whether to hug someone.  I like to hug as a matter of course, but my general rule with students is that I don't touch the kid unless the kid touches me first or comes at me with open arms. This occasionally yields a funny unsure little dance.

After the ceremony there's a dessert reception. As I always do, I come in, do a couple of laps around the room to see whoever and then exit. The desserts were good this year, I thought. My favorite touch was the little freezer with ice cream sandwiches and chocolate eclairs.

I'd love to try to sum up here, but as usual, it takes a while for me to really understand how I feel about something. I guess I hope I can keep in good enough touch with enough of these kids that I don't miss them too much.

Leonard Stern

May he [verb] in peace.

It's not the humidity

This morning I put the leash on my dog, opened the door, and as we took our first step outside she stopped and looked up at me and I could only imagine her thinking

"Really? Are you seriously taking me out into this? Don't you realize I'm completely covered with fur? What sort of sadist are you?" 

 

 

Best plagiarism excuse

"I didn't copy, they anticipated me!"

The parental perspective

As I was going through all the receipts from the senior trip, I suddenly remembered that several students had forgotten to bring in their permission slips, and in those cases I asked them to call their parents so I could get verbal approval. Unanimously, the parents both agreed that their kids could go and without prompting gave permission for us to keep them even longer if we wanted to.

Lacks maturity

If there's one thing I learned this week is thata piece of me remains fundamentally uncomfortable being a grown-up. And I think I'm okay with that.

On the way home

So after the game the kids went to get balls and autographs, and a couple of the girls got one (or more) of the player's phone number and spent the bus ride home from the ballpark texting with him. And wouldn't you know it, when curfew hit, where are they? Out on the beach with a few of the ballplayers, of course, having driven the 30 miles over from Salisbury to Ocean City.

After a bit if a flurry, we shooed the girls up to their rooms and left the disappointed-looking boys downstairs. About 45 minutes later I came out of my room to check in with the security guard, who told me that a couple of guys had come up to the floor looking for the girls and that he'd shooed them away. Fabulous.

As a result of all this, I ended up in bed much too late, but was still able to get up in time to get packed up in the morning. I then had to go retrieve the food from the refrigerator in the basement of the hotel. I kind of wish I'd had a video camera with me to follow the maze of hallways and stairs I had to get through to reach it. I will say that everything was very clean and the people very helpful. Got the cooler, which fully loaded weighs about 100 pounds and a cart from a walk-in fridge, and went up one elevator to fetch some ice and then through abut 100 yards of hallways and ramps to get outside to the parking lot.

The kids made it out in a reasonable amount of time (I must say I had fretted that one or more of the rooms would still be asleep when it was time to leave) and we went to the local water park. I should mention that we had absolutely spectacular weather throughout- sunny and warm every day. The park was small and maybe a bit too little-kid oriented, but there was enough fun stuff to do for everyone (and minigolf next door for those who didn't want the water rides).

So we hung out there for a few hours and now we're on our way home. I'll be back with reflections and pictures later, but for now I'm signing off.

The JBHA Game (Pictures to follow)

Oh. My. God.

We are on our way back from the Delmarva Shorebirds game. To say that we were enthusiastic spectators would dramatically understate the proceedings. We actually kind of dominated the non-baseball action.

Our group struck up conversation with the MC and the mascot (the mascot conversed by means of a kind of charades) early, then one of our guys was given a t-shirt, interviewed on the PA ("I live and die Shorebirds"), and told that if anyone hit the Robertson's Jewelers sign in left field that he'd win a $1500 gold coin (they didn't).

After several more let's call them very friendly conversations with the MC and mascot (bird costume), a group of our girls talked their way into singing "Take Me Out To The Ballgame," then dancing to "Thank God I'm A Country Boy" on the dugout.

During this time they, let's just say they caught the attention of some of the players and spent the rest of the game calling out to them and they'd look up from the dugout and wave to the girls. I'm just going to leave it at that though that wasn't the end of the story.

Day 2, Part 1

Woke up at a reasonable hour and made coffee. The security guard, who had been plied with treats by some of the girls before bedtime, had gone. Had some breakfast and then went down to wrangle a group headed for paintball. Once they'd left, I asked who wanted to join me for the secondary activity of bike riding. As it turned out, only one girl and I were up for going.

We were going to ride on the bus with the paintball group, but the bus driver had apparently been subjected to some sort of operant conditioning that caused him to twitch uncontrollably if I asked him to stop the bus anywhere other than the appointed place. Rather than have a twitchy bus driver, we elected to take a city bus, which took approximately 45 seconds longer, since the charter bus passed us right before our stop.

We rented mountain bikes, which is peculiar in that there's nothing around Ocean City that would remotely qualify as a hill, much less a mountain, but off we went. My idea was to ride at least far enough north that we got into Delaware.

Ocean City has an unusual kind of arrangement where there is one lane that is a combination bus and bike lane. It sound kind of scary, at least from the bike perspective, but since there's only one bus every 10 minutes or so, it was fine.

After we'd ridden for a while, my companion asked if I knew how far it was to Delaware, at which point we spotted a "Welcome To Delaware" sign. It was an interesting shift, because once we passed the initial commercial area (I guess for people seeking non sales tax) it turned into a state park and there was nothing on either side but sand dunes. And bikes got their own lane. Absolutely lovely. Eventually we decided it was time to turn around.

I'm a pretty experienced cyclist, and you'd think by now I'd have internalized one important fact- if there's no breeze in your face while you're riding, it means the wind is at your back. And will therefore be in your face when you turn around, and that's what it was. But we fought our way and were very ready for lunch when we returned.

The afternoon was spent at the beach. It wasn't as hot today, but very sunny and nice. The kids built and smashed sand castles and and threw a football around when the beach patrol wasn't watching and fought the rough surf. Then back inside to shower and ice skate a bit before dinner.

We're now on our way to see the Delmarva Shorebirds face off against the Hickory Crawdads in a South Atlantic League (affectionately known as the Sally League) contest. It's low class A ball, mostly 19 and 20 year-old kids. Should be fun and I'll report back later.

Day 1

I can't really tell you what a senior trip is like from the perspective of a student. I went to a public high school of the sort that did not indulge in that sort of thing. I can only tell you from the perspective of the chaperone, and in this case the so-called lead chaperone.

Being a lead chaperone is kind of like getting promoted to a job with harder work and more responsibility but you still get paid the same. If you've read my travel blogs in the past, you know that I can get overly caught up in the logistical details of a trip and this can make it hard to relax.

Nonetheless, today was actually pretty relaxing once we got here. The hotel is the kind of place that would not fare well in a TripAdvisor review. The decor is a mix between unattractive and nonexistent (you would not believe the furniture that's in use in my writing this), there's paint and wallpaper peeling here and there, and a hint of antiseptic smell in the air. But it's cheap, right on the beach, and the rooms are large, with refrigerator, microwave and coffeemaker. There's a small ice skating rink in the lobby atrium and a 24 hour supermarket across the street. The rooms like this overlooking the atrium have little balconies with a plush chair and chaise lounge. And the people are nice. I wouldn't recommend it to everyone, but for a school group it's great. Oh, and they also have a "No Party Tolerance Policy," which I gather is a policy that does not tolerate parties. Except, of course, when the parties are held in a room where the hotel can charge for your parties 

First we had lunch, then I made some announcements. This is hard for me because I'm not a linear enough speaker to be sufficiently succinct. People tend to listen to me, I think because they never know what's going to come out of my mouth, but I just can't do announcements straight. Then everyone went to their rooms, got in bathing suits and headed for the beach.

It took me longer than most to get to the beach because I wanted to "organize" some stuff, but once I got out there it was very nice. I often feel slightly uncomfortable dealing with students in this kind of setting because they're here to be with each other, not to hang out with their teachers. Ultimately I ended up sitting with the other chaperones a few hundred feet down the beach.

I went in the ocean, body-surfed a bit, and then went back inside. I was in my room for a bit and then I heard people talking ion the hallway. I poked my head out and asked if they wanted to go ice skating. They said no but that some other people did. This turned out to be true and a few of us went down to skate, a group that eventually grew to around 20 people, ranging from people who were pretty good to people who hadn't skated in years. I've always dissed ice hockey because it's played on a surface that most people would prefer to walk around rather than on if given the choice, but this was actually good fun.

After dinner we went to the boardwalk. One of the big attractions of this place is that it has an actual classic-style boardwalk, with all the sights, sounds and smells that that implies. The kids, who mind you had just finished eating dinner, hit the stands as if it had been months rather than minutes since they'd eaten. I heard reports of deepfried cheesecake and oreos being consumed and I was told it tasted exactly the way you'd think such a "food" would taste. I think my favorite thing, though was just how gleeful they were. It was as if they'd never been anywhere before. "Look t-shirts!" These are kids who, for rthe most part, have traveled pretty extensively, but I guess this is part of what makes a senior trip special.

I held myself to the largest small ice cream cone I've ever eaten. Eventually, the kids gathered near where the bus was supposed to meet us. The main thing going on there was one guy, celebrating his birthday, had a t-shirt that read "FREE HUGS." and a happy half hour was spent trying to convince any an all passers by to indulge. A surprising number, male and female, obliged.

Senior tripping

So it's time to blog the senior trip. We're currently on the bus on our way to Ocean City, MD. I've never been to this place and am very much looking forward to it.

Ocean City was not our original destination, and our path to that location twisted and turned through bedbug reports, careening between no options and too many options, and finally landing in the OC, thanks in part to an offpeak travel time and a lousy economy.

My job here was to plan and organize the trip. I think most people know that me and the word 'organize' have a relationship that's uneasy at best. Planning is fine, and I can keep a lot of things going simultaneously, but not in a way that anyone would call precise and organized.

As the trip goes on I can pass along some more of the backstory, but today we arrived at school to find that we had 3 few kids than anticipated, due to illness and mysterious doings. Most of the kids were here on time, as was the bus, so everything proceeded and we were ready to go when I realized we were lacking our lunch. This is the perfect example of why I hate being in charge. If we ended up in Maryland with no food, it was all on me.

The caterer had said that we were going to have sandwiches for lunch today because he couldn't get to the hotel in time to prepare a meal. Beyond that, I had no information. I didn't know if he was bringing them or if we needed to load it on the bus. Once I found out that we were bringing it, I had to go down to the school kitchen, bang on the door until an extremely put out (though totally helpful) young woman let me in.

Upon entering, I could see that our food was in a state of semi-readiness. This was not what I'd anticipated, but we were able to fill a cooler with ice, add sandwiches, and then...stare at this big heavy thing and wonder how we were going to get it to the bus. There was no handtruck or proper dolly anywhere, so we lifted the cooler onto one of those wheeley (wheelie?) things you use to pile up a bunch of folding chairs. This was okay as long as we didn't hit any kind of irregularity on the ground, which worked better inside than out. Any time we hit even a small bump, the wheelie stopped and the cooler kept going (that's physics, folks). Eventually, we gave up and started carrying things.

The end result of this was my getting completely soaked and more than a little irritated, but ultimately we made it onto the bus with everything and we're off! More to come.

Life gets in the way

Isn't that a song lyric or something? Life gets in the way of living? If it's not it should be because it's catchy and it's true.

My case in particular has me dealing with a houseful of people who aren't feeling well. I've often lamented the pain of being the least sick person in a house full of sick people. You always have to do all the stuff because you're the least incapacitated. I'll tell you, walking the dog on a winter night with a fever is no fun at all, but someone's gotta do it.

I'm not actually sick at the moment, but I sprained my right thumb a few weeks ago and it has refused to get better, leading me to try to keep it immobilized. All I have to say about this is, try getting through a day without using the thumb on your dominant hand and see how that works. Try buttoning something or even putting that thing on in the first place. Try holding a glass. Try preparing, eating or ridding your body of food. Try washing your hair. Try typing. Or writing. And remember that I essentially write for a living.

And you know how when you hurt one leg the other starts to hurt because you're favoring it? Guess what? Some thing with hands!

I went to Hamilton College in upstate New York. Snows a lot there. Snows so much that there that the idea of a snow day was just silly. Every day was a snow day.

I had a Shakespeare professor who was, shockingly, a theatrical sort. He spoke with a pseudo continental accent (I have no idea where he was from, probably Nebraska or something). I am now going to use dramatic license and relate and perhaps embellish a story that my friend told me as if it actually happened to me.

One day I come to class on a bright clear morning through a couple of feet of freshly fallen snow that had stuck to absolutely everything, turning the campus overwhelmingly white. The professor walks in and grumpily says, "So I get up this morning, go to the kitchen to get coffee, and I look out the window and what do I see? A g-damned winter wonderland."

I kind of feel the same way about spring. Spring is wonderful if you like green and if you like mud, bugs and itchy eyes. Yes, it's nice that the temperatures are warmer, but lousy weather comes in all sorts, and I personally prefer winter.

Adding to the fun is our temporary houseguest. Well, a houseguest in that she resides at the house, but not in that she's inside. We have a light fixture outside of our back door that has a gracefully curved brass tube leading up to the light itself. A few years ago, a robin decided that that would be an ideal place to build a nest, and the nest has remained ever since, occupied each year by some robin or another (they're so darned difficult to tell apart!). In general, this is fine. It's up too high to see into the nest, but once the babies are born you can see their beaks sticking up when they're waiting for food. The only downside is the neighborhood cat camping out down below, hoping for a snack.

This years robin, however, is an overly nervous sort who bolts the nest every time someone walks near it. I know this is normal bird behavior, but this particular robin has acute insomnia and I can tell you that there are few things more alarming than coming home late and tired in the dark, and having something suddenly fly right past your face. I've already told my wife that if she finds me sprawled out in the back yard dead that I've suffered a heart attack at this bird's hands (wings?).

Complete freak out

I was about to go to the Phillies game last night and as I always do, I checked to see which of my tickets I had sold on Stubhub, because those tickets won't work. I saw that I'd sold seats 15 and 16 so I went to my file to get 13 and 14 and saw that those were the only 2 tickets there. 15 and 16 were gone. I suddenly thought, "Holy S--t!" I had accidentally sold two of the tickets that I'd given to the school on Stubhub. I had given them two pairs, one for 5/3 and one for 5/5, one for a senior class silent auction and the other for an athletic department raffle. I had no idea which was which and did not know who had won either the raffle or the auction. 

I completely freaked out. This meant that these people would show up and their tickets would not work. And I didn't even know who they were but knew I'd find out eventually and it wouldn't be pretty. The only thing I could think to do was run down to the ballpark and try to find two unidentified people wandering among the 45,000 showing up for the game.

So I rushed out the door (it was about 6:15 at this point with a 7:05 game time) and flew down to the ballpark (20 minutes!), went to the third base ticket window and then the first base window (as in all the way on the other side of the park) looking for a couple of pissed-off people. Then I asked one of the attendants if there had been anyone show up and have their tickets not work. He said that if that happened they'd be sent to the Stubhub booth which was back at the 3rd base window.

. 

I ran back over there and the Stubhub people said that yes, someone who had bought tickets at a silent auction had been there and they'd sent them over to the season ticket office where they were going to try to contact me. This office was next to the first base ticket window back on the other side of the park. 

So over there I run and I go in the office and there's nobody there except Phillies employees. I say, "Oh no, I'm too late" so they ask me what I mean and when I explain a woman behind the counter said, "You're not too late. They're standing at my ticket window, number 21." So I go out to window 21 and there are my school's principal and her husband, shocked as all hell to see me there. It was just game time. So after a short explanation they took the two valid tickets and in they went. 

I was able to get a ticket for myself, I drank 2 beers as quickly as I could to calm myself, and then sat and enjoyed the game.

Thank goodness for research!

Otherwise we would not have conclusively known this:

Facebook photos

I could wax eloquent (or at least write lots and lots of words) about how societal trends have left us with a generation of exhibitionists, but I wouldn't want to call attention to myself.

Just WIlliam and Kate

So far, at least, the best thing about this whole royal wedding thing is that when I see"Kate" in a headline it no longer means that awful woman from the reality show with all the kids.

Oh, and when you see William singing "God Save The Queen," do you think he's thinking about his mother?

On to the next controversy

Was Donald Trump's "hair" manufactured in the US?

Owning up

I guess in my old age (I got my first ever Senior Discount today!) I am more secure in my abilities and therefore am less afraid to admit when I did something stupid. Fortunately, as I've gotten older I have gotten smarter and so don't make nearly as many mistakes as I used to. This fits together nicely and so, with the exception of the usual set of mea culpas that are an essential part of a marriage (on the man's side of it anyway) I am perfectly content acknowledging my occasional boneheadedness.

Today I came back home from dropping my daughter off at school and saw that our electric gate had remained open. I know, that sounds all snobby, electric gate and all, but really it's just so we don't have to have a fence around our pool. I guess that doesn't sound much better, but the gate behaves in a somewhat mysterious fashion and glitches on what seems like a monthly basis. When this happens, the only thing to do is to go in the basement and flip the circuit breaker to turn off the power. After a while, if I turn the power back on the gate will operate normally.

So I go to the basement and do this and then come back upstairs for breakfast. After breakfast, I notice that the Internet is out. This is, of course, a total disaster and cannot be tolerated, so I call Comcast and just ream them (politely, of course). We've been having intermittent problems for months and they refuse to change the outside cable and the TV's out too and I'm sick of it and what, you can't come until tomorrow? I'm inconvenienced and fuming, but I have stuff to do that I go out and do, finishing with a stop at a coffee shop so I can get on the internet for a little while.

When I get home I notice that the gate is still open, so I go down to the basement and notice that instead of one circuit breaker being off, there are two circuit breakers off. I flip them both back on and sure enough, the internet and TV are working again. Oops. Fortunately, I don't even need to apologize to anyone. Just cancel the service call and fire up the laptop. Life is good.