September Again, Simeon, and Red Rover

September Again
And so, we have come back around to September again. There have been 52 of them for me thus far, 19 for Oldest Daughter, 16 for Younger Daughter.  My lovely wife has had somewhat fewer Septembers in her life.  It's the first September for the new puppy, now 8 months old and sleeping at my feet as I write this. This can be a time of year to take stock of the summer past, and look forward to the fall ahead, and perhaps ponder our place in the Universe.

The end of summer.  Time to say goodbye to longer days, warm evenings; being able to jump in the pool at 8 PM and not get chilled after you get out.  Its also time for the start of school.  The streets in our neighborhood are again full of parents and kids, all walking to school. The 7:45 AM rush, a timeless tradition here for more than 50 years or so, I guess.  Strollers, little bikes, kids in helmets, small students with parents holding hands, backpacks and lunch sacks, moving slowly westward from the top of our street, daily participants in some not-so-distant Big Event.

It really is a Big Event, this life we lead, isn't it?   Full of millions of little events, like your first bike solo, your first day of school, and, as you grow older, heading back to college in the early fall.  All these seemingly little events that begin to pile up, and make something beautiful, or sad, or challenging.  Each step is important, and if we handle them with love and humor, perhaps the finished result might be something beautiful.

We participated in that again this year, for our second time, in the start of college thing. Three weeks ago, we were in Chicago moving Kelly into her completely hip college apartment. Four girls in three bedrooms (and what looks to have been the former den), ready for another year at school.  Trips to Ikea, and Target and Costco, gathering up the stuff needed to make the apartment work.  With my lovely wife along, I felt sort of like Cro-Magnon Man With Wallet.  Following wife and daughter to all these places, grunting occasionally at some decorating choice, and supply my VISA card at the crucial check-out moment.  Most of the sounds I made sounded much like the names of the products sold at Ikea, such as "Fnork", or "Trall", or "Glank".  This is my new roll as the Dad of a college aged daughter; follow, grunt, pay.

Its a gorgeous apartment in Lincoln Park, two blocks from school in one direction, and three blocks from Trader Joes in the other direction. That sounds like the perfect location to me!

As I followed the ladies around Ikea and Costco, I was also quietly reflecting on how life had led me to this place, and remembering, through the fog of middle age, my own college years.  What if I could relive those years, only with the middle life perspective I now have?  What would that feel like, and how might I experience those college years differently?  This is what I wondered, as I pushed the cart around Ikea.

Simeon
As part of all this pondering, about college and daughters and life, I have been reflecting on the ark that the life of Older Daughter is taking as she reaches toward 20 years.  A sophomore in college now  As a young parent there was no way I could have ever know or fully understood who she was going to become as she grew.  No way I would have known that she decided in the fifth grade that she should become a teacher for her vocation.  So many things I could never have imagined, that have now come to pass.

This place of "not knowing" about where are kids are headed is as old as humanity, and reminds me of one of my favorite stories in the Gospels.  In Luke, where Joseph & Mary present their little child to the Lord, and a man named Simeon is present.   How would you feel if an old man took your child in his arms and pronounced clearly just exactly what his or her future would look like?  My favorite line in this story is:

"Jesus' father and mother were speechless with surprise at these words."

I can completely understand how they felt, those two very young parents.  What was this old man saying?  How did he know?  And for me, what would it have felt like to have been told the future and fate of my own child, when she was so very young?  What a moment.  What a life.  We parents, we need time to take it all in.  Learning it all too fast can break our hearts.

Red Rover
And then, several days ago, I stumbled on this beautiful song by Rosie Thomas.  It seems to connect the pieces together perfectly at just this point in life.  

When they are little, you want to hold them so tight.  I think Mary and Joseph felt that too.  I did.  But as time passes, our grip must loosen.  I keep telling myself that.  Loosen up, dude.  I said that to myself as I circled around inside Ikea.  Loosen up.

I need to remember, that, in spite of my own unconvinced heart, and sometimes undercover smile, that I need to just let her go.  She's beautiful.  Otherwise, she may never know.



Red Rover by Rosie Thomas

Red rover, red rover
Send Mary right over
School books in her hand
And her shawl over her shoulders

And let her run
Run as fast as she can
Don't let her grow up to be
Like her mother
Heart so unconvinced and a world
So undiscovered
And asking for forgiveness
Not knowing how to forgive.

And oh
Just let her go
And oh
She's beautiful
If you hold her back,
She may never know.

Red rover, red rover,
Send Daniel
School books in his hand
And a coat over his shoulder
And let him run
Run as fast as he can
Don't let him grow up to be like his father
Heart so set in stone
And a smile so undercover
And opening the door to love,
Never letting love in.

And oh
Just let him go
And oh
He's beautiful
If you hold him back,
He may never know.

DePaul Family Weekend 2009

Younger sister and I have just returned from Chicago for DePaul Family Weekend 2009, otherwise known as Visiting The Gigantic Educational Expenditure.

This is the one weekend each fall that family members (read: those actually paying the massive bills to operate this university) can come, visit their kids, dress badly, quietly revel in the middle-aged admission that they are definitely no longer of college age, wait awkwardly in dorm lobbies, and get free t shirts.

I must admit, DePaul does a pretty good job of client care for parents; I think the administration knows very well where the money comes from. And you get tshirts!

Here are my random observations on DePaul, my daughter's new life, and culture in Chicago:

• Fall is a real season! Its cold here. And its only October. The weather was 40-45 degrees with rain showers the whole time we were there. Ahhh! And it will only be getting colder. Much. And folks wonder why there are 37 million humans living in California.
• The Fall colors here are wonderful. What a beautiful introduction to Winter. I am beginning to understand why my wife, who is from Toronto, misses Fall so very much. Its just gorgeous, this daily reminder of the Seasons of life. I like that our girl wanted to go to a college that feels, well, classically collegiate.
  
• There do not seem to be many classes at school on Friday. I don't really remember this from my college days this being the case. Yet another reason to become an academic, its seems; four day work weeks, and summers off. As for the students, three day weekends work fine, just ask them.
• Chicago is an amazing city. Over the past two days we have spent a lot of time walking the downtown loop area, Michigan Avenue, and riding "The El". All freshmen at DePaul are required to take a "Discover Chicago" class, that plunges them into the city, to begin the process of becoming life-long learners and helping them to understand better the city they are going to school in. I think this is a capital idea!
• Did I mention the free t-shirts. Let me tell you, these are the most expensive free t shirts I have ever owned. I picked up lots of them, but still they cost me multiple thousands of dollars per shirt. Need a t-shirt?
• Why does DePaul have a mascot that is a guy in a Devil suit? Catholic school, Satan as the Mascot. Very strange.
  
  

At the end of these busy days, the only thing that really matters is how our oldest girl really feels about her time thus far at college. Did she make the right choice? Does she feel confident, enjoy her classes, feel good about her decision? Is she making good friends, and are they kids with character?

So Saturday, at lunch, I asked the key question. "So tell me, so far, on a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate your college experience?" The answer. "A nine". Interestingly, I received the same answer when I separately asked several of her best friends. Outstanding. Lets hope those numbers hold up.

When I return home, I will stop on my way down the hall - for a moment in Kelly's now too-quiet bedroom. I will stand in the darkness of a Southern California Fall, thinking of my daughter, some 1,700 miles away at school.

As I stand there, I will give thanks for a happy and confident young woman, now off at college. The Journey continues.....

Off to DePaul, These Moments, This Journey

It seems as if in the first moment, I was holding a wet, wiggling baby girl in my arms. How in the world was I going to handle the challenge of being a father? What lay ahead? Where was this little one headed in the world?

And then, across a blur of days, months, years, there were those other moments, as this little three year old girl would charge my knees each night when I came home from work, shouting my name. The best name I will ever have. Daddy.

In being a parent sometimes you wonder if they will ever grow up, overcome their anxieties and fears, and strike out on their own. But, in time, they do grow up. Oh, do they.

Or those brighter moments, the ones that make you smile when you are driving somewhere in the car, and remember something very funny this remarkable teenage girl said. A sly observation, or a downright hysterical comment. Example: last month we went to see the Dead Sea Scrolls exhibit in Toronto. At first, she thought it was named the Dead Sea Squirrels. Really. Maybe this is why she needs to go to college. I digress.

Turn again, another moment. Here she is at the airport, standing in front of me, very ready to go, 18 years old, and boarding a plane to fly 1,750 miles to Chicago and DePaul University. Who could have imagined this?

On her own, out the door, on her way. If only a bit tentative, yet completely confident, and so "done" with life at our house. Onward with this Journey.

I am stunned, and joyous, and silent, and wondering. What the heck just happened, that drop off at the airport, and how did I end up in this place? This place of departures, yet beginnings. Of bittersweet sadness of parting, yet great joy in the promise of the future for a remarkable young lady.

That little miracle God dropped in our arms 18 years ago; she was a loan, not a purchase; a gift to hold lightly, not a thing to be clutched. Today, she is ready to go, ready to learn, eager to move on. You go girl!

I am pretty sure that there are very few events in life that so clearly illustrate the word bittersweet. We are so thankful for these 18 years, and we look forward to a bright future, full of hope.

What My Wife Does for Summer Vacation

This next week, our house will be just a bit more quiet, because my wife will be gone. We will be a bit (ok, a LOT) more disorganized around here. Meals might not have as much love in them as usual, and may have some rather odd, "guy-inspired ingredients". But it's for a very good reason.

I am married to a woman who chooses to take part of her summer vacation, drive to Arizona with a van full of teenage mothers, and spend time with them at this place:



It feels just wonderful to me.

A Summer Evening, A Teacher, The Future

A Summer Evening
It was a warm summer evening last Sunday, and we spent it with good friends, enjoying, listening, and for me, remembering the past, and pondering the future.

Over the past decade or so, the music of one particular group has been one of the primary play lists in the background music to the life of this middle aged father and husband.

Sunday night Oldest Daughter and I joined good friends for an memorable evening of Bluegrass music - at the Largo in West Hollywood. On the bill - The Punch Brothers (photo above) and The Watkins Family (photo below). Some of these amazing musicians have a common genesis - from the group Nickle Creek.

For almost two hours we enjoyed the acoustic Bluegrass music of Chris Thile and The Punch Brothers. The was ridiculously good music. No amps and electricity for these guys. Just a banjo, guitar, acoustic bass, fiddle and mandolin. Beautiful.

After this, off to the bar for the "after show", featuring the Watkins Family. Another hour and a half of haunting melodies, beautiful lyrics, lots of laughs, and great music by amazingly talented people who surely enjoy each others company. It seemed we were all transported to a different place for a time, a place where only the music mattered.

If you ever want to head on down to the Largo and experience something special at the Watkins Family Hour, here is all you would ever need to know.

A Teacher
Our family was introduced to Nickle Creek almost eight years ago, through the gift of a 5th grade teacher. A teacher with a warm smile, a terrific sense of humor, and a gift of love. And, a teacher with a guitar. This was no ordinary teacher, this was the woman who changed the course of my daughter's life. If you asked her, Kelly might tell you she wants to grow up and be, well, much like that teacher. She will be majoring in Elementary Education this fall at DePaul University - and we can trace it back to Miss Lang in the 5th grade. The year that changed history for Oldest Daughter.

Miss Lang would bring her guitar to class most every Friday, and play for the kids. And one of the songs she played is shown below.

Miss Lang is an entirely unique and remarkable teacher, someone who takes her work seriously, expresses joy daily, loves kids well, and fills the room with her personality. She teaches her kids well, and loves them greatly. Its a rare commodity these days; someone who does their job with all they have, with all their heart.

The Future
As I sat in the dark soaking it all in, I would occasionally glance over at Oldest Daughter, enjoying her gaze, and her smile; feeling thankful for the young lady she is becoming. For a moment I smiled and thought to myself, "imagine this, we are together at a concert, enjoying the same music!".

I also remembered those days in 5th grade, and the gift of Miss Lang. I thought about the future, and the teacher this young lady next to me might become. I am amazed at this life.

When You Come Back Down

You got to leave me now,
you got to go alone
You got to chase a dream,one that's all your own
Before it slips away
When you're flyin' high,take my heart along

I'll be the harmony to every lonely song
That you learn to play
When you're soarin' through the air
I'll be your solid ground

Take every chance you dare
I'll still be there
When you come back down
When you come back down
I'll keep lookin' up awaitin' your return

My greatest fear will be that you will crash and burn
And I won't feel your fire
I'll be the other hand that always holds the line
Connectin' in between your sweet heart and mine

I'm strung out on that wire
And I'll be on the other end
To hear you when you call Angel,
you were born to fly
And if you get too high
I'll catch you when you fall
Catch you when you fall

Your memory is the sunshine every new day brings
I know the sky is calling Angel,
let me help you with your wings
When you're soarin' through the air
I'll be your solid ground

Take every chance you dare
I'll still be there
When you come back down
Take every chance you dare
I'll still be there
When you come back down
When you come back down

Kelly's Graduation, Skipping Onward

Last weekend was graduation time for the Older Daughter.

These June endings, they always surprise me, and leave me with a rainbow of emotions. Melancholy, hope, sadness, joy, wonder, bewilderment. What is happening to the days of childhood in our home? But in the midst of these transitions that hasten life forward, slipping from our hands, there are glimpses of joy, and mercy, and grace.

This past weekend was deeply meaningful for me, as it marked the graduation of my oldest daughter from high school. That's her (click to enlarge), pointing at us silly yelling family people (in the stands at the football stadium) in the photo above.

We can choose to just just let these milestones pass us by as they happen, without reflection. Or, we can pause, step back for a few moments, take some time, and reflect. What is the deeper meaning of this time of moving forward, looking back, and changing places? And where in all this may Grace, and Joy, and Hope be found?

Thirteen years of school. After pre-school at Calvary Church here in town, we were off to Marengo Elementary School in September 1996; holding a little hand on the first day of Kindergarten. Filing into the classroom in October, on Back to School Night in 2nd grade. Book fairs, school plays, parent days. And then, seemingly without warning, the first day of Middle School; the Semi-Big Leagues of public education. And then, a blur of Middle School plays, sports events, open houses, and homework. Oh, the homework!

And then, again, suddenly, the first day of high school, sports, boys, basketball games, girls water polo at the pool in January (brrr!).

It was a warm afternoon at the high school football field, the setting for graduation each year. For a very long time our town has gathered here each June to mark endings and beginnings. Speeches were made, music was played, names were announced. In less than 75 minutes we were done; over 300 seniors had left the past behind, and were facing a summer of wondering and hoping, before moving on to college, and life beyond, in the Fall.

As all the students left the field, I followed our Kelly with my telephoto lens, taking pictures of these fleeting moments.

And at the end of it all, our otherwise self confident, seemingly omniscient, and often even mature daughter did something I did not expect at all. Something altogether childlike and joyous; filled with glee, and youth, and promise for tomorrow.

After hugging everyone in sight, for just a bit, she skipped across the field toward the exit. Ten yards on the football field. First down. In just those couple of moments, that skipping, for me, illustrated so much of what makes up this remarkable young lady. My eyes filled with tears, a smile broke out on my face, and my heart brimmed with hope. Hope for a whole new generation.

Skipping forward, not looking back. That is how our Kelly will face the future. She is going to DePaul this fall to major in Elementary Education.

How fitting. The future teacher that skips into the future. I am so filled with admiration, and joy, and thankfulness, I could just skip.

And know what? The other day, when no one was looking, I skipped too. For Joy, and Mercy, and Grace.

A Blessing

For anyone with teenage girls, this is wonderful.

Driving Home a Little Slower

Sometimes, God presents you with these little moments. Glimpses of grace and reflection. The feeling that, if maybe for a few moments you have been relieved of the mundane pattern of living. Gravity gets a little lighter, and the space between Heaven and Earth gets very thin.

I had a few moments like that last night. I won't forget them soon.

It was 10:45 PM, and Nancy & I had just had a wonderful dinner and long, interesting conversation on our back porch with friends. After chatting for hours, our friends departed, and it was my turn to pick up our 14 year-old at a friends house, just two blocks away. A bunch of neighborhood kids had all decided to gather at this home to watch TV and hang out. I was to pick up Heather and her friends, and deliver everyone home. Normally, this would be an ordinary task. Lately, I have taken to looking for the extraordinary in the ordinary.

As I pulled up to the house, I could see all the kids in the kitchen, hugging each other goodbye, in that special, Not in Junior High, but Not Really in High School sort of way. There I sat, outside in the dark in the car, looking back 35 years or so, and reflecting on that same time in my own life. Caught farther along in time, glancing over my shoulder.

The kids piled in the car, and the friends were delivered home, complete with jokes, and giggling, and even cell phone photos taken of each other as we drove home. Playing softly in the background, from my Ipod, was Eric Clapton, the Unplugged Album. Just another seemingly normal September night.

But as we headed home, Clapton's ballad, "Tears in Heaven" came on. I paused the Ipod, and turned to Heather, telling her that this song had been written after Eric Clapton lost his son, who was only 4 years old. "This song asks a lot of good questions", I said.

And then, we two, drove silently, all the way home, a drive of about 5 minutes, listening to the words of this haunting song.

Loss, pain beyond our knowing, and questions about Heaven.

I drove home slower than I usually do. Note to self: I need to do this more often.

Parenthood

Today, while recuperating from the cold/flu fungus in our home, I watched "Parenthood" with Steve Martin. This is one of my all time favorite movies, as it so well captures the pain, humor, and trials that all of us face as we grow up together in families.

One of my favorite moments is near the end, when Steve Martin's grandma intervenes in a discussion that Steve (Gil) and his wife Karen (Mary Steenburgen) are having about how messy families are...

Grandma: You know, when l was 19, Grandpa took me on a roller coaster.

Gil: Oh?

Grandma: Up, down, up, down. Oh, what a ride.

Gil (sarcastically) What a great story.

Grandma: I always wanted to go again. You know, it was just interesting to me that a ride could make me so frightened, so scared, so sick, so excited, and so thrilled all together.

Some didn´t like it. They went on the merry-go-round. That just goes around. Nothing. l like the roller coaster. You get more out of it.


The next scene is the perennial school play, and Gil and Karen watch as their youngest child charges on stage and disrupts and "ruins" the school play. As Gil finds himself, yet again, stressed out by the behavior of his kids, he suddenly envisions himself on a roller coaster, right there in the school play audience. Gil hates this feeling; the stress and pandemonium his kids create in this life.

But as the coaster ride goes on a bit longer, Gil realizes that all this school play chaos, is really the joy of life, as he turns to smile at his wife, and they share, for a moment, the knowledge, that in the midst of all this panic, they are right where they are supposed to be.....on the roller coaster...of life.

Grandma was right. I feel so frightened, so scared, so sick, so excited, and so thrilled all together. I am just like Gil.

Heather is 13!

Today, our house is officially be occupied by two (count 'em) teenage girls. Heather turns 13 today; and Kelly turned 16 on Sunday. Amazing.

Sunday night was Heather's party, a limo showed up at our door; Heather's idea for her party, just to pick up her friends at their houses, and drive them all around town for a while. Then it was back to our house for pasta (her favorite of all time) dinner, cake, and general merry making.

Next week will be the epic Kelly Norris Birthday party. You think the Grammy's are a big deal? Just wait.

Without much warning, our two girls have landed firmly in their teenage years. Am I ready for this double whammy? Heck no!

Heather is 13!

Some office buildings don't have 13th floors. If you have Triskaidekaphobia, you are irrationally afraid of the number 13. As it turns out, the association of bad luck with the number 13 has been attributed to the fact there were 13 people at the Last Supper of Jesus, although this association seems to have originated only in medieval times. For Heather, I predict 13 will, in a word, rock!

Softball, volleyball, soccer, leadership at school, after school tutoring, hanging with friends, laughing, living, loving. Watching Reba reruns, listening to Oddessy on her Ipod, and showers that last for hours (almost). If we could harness the energy of this amazing young lady, we could light the City of South Pasadena for a week.

Heather, your care and love for others is remarkable. The way in which you can find humor in almost anything is a gift and a joy to us all. Thank you for gracing our lives with your presence. From the very first moment I held you and laughed loudly and cried tears of joy, every day has been an adventure. May the adventure continue!

Thirteen? Feeling a bit squeamish? No us, not our family. Bring it on!

Leaving a Legacy

As I approach the mid-century mark in age (cut me open and count the rings), I am rediscovering (refiguring?) a sense of call for my life. By call, I mean my perception of what it is that God wants me to do with the rest of my days here on this planet.

I got the essence of the thoughts below from my friend Al Lunsford's project, Inside Work. As a result of reading this great blog, I have discovered something new.

I want to develop, in my family and myself, a sense of “third generation vision.” Third generation vision is easily described in child-rearing terms. My wife and I are attempting to raise two wonderful girls, Kelly and Heather, If we simply had “first generation vision” as parents, we would be satisfied if our children did as they were told, minded their manners, spoke when spoken to, didn’t do anything to embarrass us and covered up any obvious hygiene problems. First generation vision is parenting for my personal convenience and near term objectives.

Unfortunately, this was largely the perspective of my parents. This was mostly the credo of their generation, not necessarily their fault. As a result, I have spent much of the last 25 years relearning what being a man, a husband, and a parent means. If I am thinking only in a "first generation" context, as long kids do as they are told and don’t create problems, everything is fine. Until, one day, everything isn’t fine.

Parents with “second generation vision” see their responsibilities differently. They want to raise their children in such a way that the kids become good citizens, good spouses, good parents, good neighbors, good leaders and contributors to society. Any time you see such a parent, commend them. The same goes for leaders of every sort.

Then, there are parents who strive for a greater perspective: "third generation vision.” As I think about my own girls, I’m learning to stop and ask, "How do I raise them in such a way that my grandchildren will be great citizens, husbands, wives, parents, neighbors, leaders and contributors?"

Now, faced with a parental leadership issue, I try (read: try) back up and consider how I can leverage the situation to build the wisdom, character, and ability of my kids so that their kids will make a difference.

Its about leaving a legacy. But not a legacy with my name on it, like some kind of museum or monument. A living legacy about love, and humor, and caring, and making the world a better place, for generations, not just in my lifetime.

Here is my worst nightmare: Somerset Maugham, in his novel Of Human Bondage, described an aging couple saying, “They had done nothing, and when they went it would be just as if they had never been.” And so, I am acting in fear of this result, the last thing I want is this epitaph for my life. Call me a chicken, but this is the kind of chicken I want to be.

I think my second half, as long as I have left to go, is going to be a challenge, sometimes maddening, but a blast!

Amazing Daughter

I underestimate people. And, I do it most often to those in my own family. I was reminded of this again this weekend.

Girls high school water polo season is upon us, and this weekend was the annual JV water polo tournament in our area.

Most days after work this time of year I pick Kelly, our oldest daughter up from water polo practice on the way home from work. I don't think much about what she is doing at practice; our conversation on the short ride home is more about the news of the day at school or home. We live in two worlds, it seems sometimes. I often grieve quietly over this; the loss of my little girl.

I learned again this weekend what a great kid lives in our house. She is no longer a little girl, but is becoming an amazing young lady.

Kelly plays "set" position for her team, which is basically the same thing as being a center in basketball. One difference though; in basketball you cannot spend more than three seconds in the key, and in water polo you can stay there as long as you like. However, your opponents do to attempt to DROWN you, while you are there!

I underestimate my girls every day, and this weekend proved this to me again. Kelly played four games over two days, had at least five assists and two goals. All this without drowning, even once. I am amazed at the character, determination, and toughness of my "little girl".

A little girl is gone. But what a wonderful journey we are on.

Clear the Streets!

Today, our lives entered a new phase. Our 15 year old, began driving.

She went down to the Costco parking lot tonight with her mom, to practice just putting the van in gear and trying out the gas and brake. It was a thrill-seeking task for my wife. Apparently there were several close calls involving inanimate objects, such as parking bumpers and the exterior concrete wall of Costco itself. I am thankful that my wife and daughter did not make the evening news... "Teenage driver goes on first-drive rampage! Film at 11!"

Soon, before we know it, she will be driving off...away from us, to a new life, college, career, and the path in life she chooses for herself, hopefully with a bit of guidance from Mom and Dad. May we be parents full of grace, love, and hope. May we listen well, speak seldom, and not get coronaries teaching her to drive.