My Own Little Chair

Grand Canyon sunset, taken from Yaki Point, 6/26/08

I’m still trying to process everything we experienced on our trip to Grand Canyon. It’s hard to know where to start. I suppose if you’ve been there then you know what I’m saying, and if you haven’t then there’s no way I can explain it to you.

Things that will need to be internalized and then discussed in detail:

tears…seeing the canyon, hearing the wind in the Ponderosa pines, watching native Americans sharing their culture with the tourists who took time to stop and watch the dancing and listen to the songs, watching my husband’s tears as he watched the dances and listened to the singing, watching my daughter hug a stuffed animal (a mule, of course) as we flew through some turbulence on the way home and realizing that this trip was as much about her growing up as it was about her brother doing likewise.

solitude…how it can be so quiet 100 feet below the canyon rim when you know there are tons of tourists up there, finding Shoshone Point and being the only people there as sunset approached, riding a horse through the pine forest with my daughter and our guide.

perspective…how hard it is to find when seven miles down and fifty miles away look the same, when you feel so small and insignificant next to an agave plant with a 30 foot bloom that wasn’t there a week earlier, or when you stand next to a Ponderosa that was growing before Europeans “discovered” the canyon 400 years ago, or witness the growth of the forest that only comes after the fire.

awe…words are not sufficient, perhaps not even appropriate.

This will have to be a short post, because my body clock says it’s 2:00 AM Friday while my watch says it’s 11:00 PM Thursday. We left home early Wednesday morning, heading for Arizona. Arrived in Phoenix right on time, drove through Sedona (beautiful except for the road construction) and arrived here at Tusayan around supper time Wednesday night.

So, this morning we got up, checked out the continental breakfast and headed into Grand Canyon National Park. As we pulled into the parking lot at Mather Point we decided to forgo the camera for the time being and just walk out to the rim to experience the, well, experience. I kept telling myself as I crossed the parking lot that I was a grown-up and I didn’t need to burst into tears at the sight of the canyon.

I burst into tears at the sight of the canyon.

So, this afternoon the family piled into the car (not the big ‘ol van, because its carbon footprint is Sasquatch-sized) and headed to Costco for strawberries and an iPod accessory. When we finished our shopping and headed back to the car we found the vehicle parked next to us with plenty of bumper stickers on the back.

“Another family for peace”

“IRAN(Q)’

OK, everyone is entitled to their opinion on the war. But, the following sticker started quite a conversation in the Cielo-mobile:

“After we rebuild Iraq, can we rebuild our schools?” and had a picture of a child at a desk with his hand raised. Well, where do I start?

Yesterday I heard a report on revisionist textbooks currently being used in public middle-and-high school Social Studies classes in Maryland schools. Here’s an excerpt from the Charlotte Examiner’s article:

Sewall complains the word jihad has gone through an “amazing cultural reorchestration” in textbooks, losing any connotation of violence. He cites Houghton Mifflin’s popular middle school text, “Across the Centuries,” which has been approved for use in Montgomery County Schools. It defines “jihad” as a struggle “to do one’s best to resist temptation and overcome evil.”

1. Islam. An individual’s striving for spiritual self-perfection.
2. Islam. A Muslim holy war or spiritual struggle against infidels.
3. A crusade or struggle: “The war against smoking is turning into a jihad against people who smoke” (Fortune).

Oh, another bumper sticker from the same vehicle was the chestnut “If going to church makes you a Christian, does going to the garage make you a car?” Little girl didn’t quite understand the logic of that one, so we started explaining it to her in terms she could understand.

Mom: Remember the report on Seattle’s proposed ban on bonfires because they contribute to global warming? It’s that kind of logic. If bonfires on the beaches of Seattle contribute to global warming, then doesn’t it stand to reason that forest fires contribute even more to global warming?

LG: Oh, yeah. I get it now.

Well, we decided to push that logic to it’s inevitable conclusion and Ta-Da! we solved the global warming crisis. Really, we did. Follow me here.

Yes, it is true that forest fires contribute more to the crisis than Seattle’s bonfires. Most forest fires are started by lightning. So, logically, shouldn’t we ban lightning too?

But, we can’t ban lightning until we ban thunderstorms, because they are the generators of the electricity that manifests itself as lightning, causing forest fires that contribute to global warming.

But, we can’t ban thunderstorms until we ban condensation, because it creates the storm clouds that generate the electricty that manifests itself as lightning, causing the forest fires that contribute to global warming.

But, we can’t ban condensation until we ban evaporation, because the water molecules that condense into the clouds that generate the electricity that manifests itself as lightning, that causes the forest fires that contribute to global warming, must first evaporate.

Well, how do we ban evaporation? Seems to me like we need to ban water, and the world’s limited water resources are recycled through the circle of rain, evaporation and condensation. Everyone knows that rainforests act as the world’s thermostat by regulating temperatures and weather patterns. But how do they do this?

Well, trees in the rainforest breathe carbon dioxide from the atmosphere (that’s good, it’s using some of the CO2 greenhouse gasses) and give off oxygen into the atmosphere. That oxygen combines with hydrogen to create, WATER. The water then evaporates into the atmosphere, where it condenses, forming thunder clouds that generate electricty that manifests itself as lightning that strikes the earth’s surface, starting forest fires that contribute to global warming by putting CO2 into the atmosphere. 

Of course, the rainforests are supposed to remove that CO2 from the atmosphere, but since they helped put it there in the first place, (see logic above) then, if we remove them they can’t participate in the great circle of global warming contribution.

SO, LOGICALLY, if we ban rainforests we’ll be well on our way to solving the global warming crisis.

Under normal circumstances I would be donning my flame-retardant suit in anticipation of the flaming arrows that are inevitably coming my way as a result of this post. But, before you launch one in my direction, remember that fire contributes to global warming.

Insane, isn’t it? But no more insane than making sweeping generalizations about a war that began in 2003 causing the destruction of our school systems, when public school education has been in decline for, oh, at least 40 years prior to the beginning of the war that started in 2003 that has destroyed American public education. Or the sweeping generalizations about what does or does not make someone a Christian.

Back to the revised definition of jihad. While it is technically true that one of the definitions of jihad does not contain references to violence, one must also look at the meaning of the word in the context of its application. The jihad applied to New York and Washington that caused the war was certainly NOT non-violent. When we don’t use context to understand the world around us, we wind up with stupid arguments over warped logic.

Here’s another bumper sticker: “Am I liberal, or just well-educated?” You mean I can’t be well-educated if I disagree with everything liberal?

Where do I start?

So, we just got home from a day at the regional amusement park with five, count them, FIVE teenagers. Son, son’s girlfriend, daughter and her two best friends, both of whom might as well live here. One of them practically does live here. As the basketcase in The Breakfast Club (Ally Sheedy) said, her homelife is “unsatisfying.” The other friend met our little girl when they both entered third grade at a new charter school. She lives on a horse farm, so it was preordained for the two of them to become fast friends. But, since she lives in town and we don’t—yes, the horse farm is in the city—they don’t get to see each other as often.

What happens when you spend the day at an amusement park, walking a little and spending the rest of the time next to the wave pool, under an umbrella, without SPF 50 sunscreen? I wouldn’t want to find out, because I had the SPF 50 and I still have sunburned shoulders, and a sunburned face. Yes, I look as old as my old friends this evening. And my feet hurt…..I wore Merrel sandals all day, and my feet hurt. This is not supposed to happen, it says so right on the Merrel box. Ouch.

My son splurged and purchased an iPod for me. A used iPod, which is fine except for the lack of information on how to work the darned thing. What did we do before the internet???? I ask myself this question a hundred times a day. Some niggling thing starts rummaging around in my brain, like when I see a rerun of Star Trek:TNG and recognize a quest star as someone from a movie I’ve seen recently, only I can’t remember which move it was. What to do, kiddies? My brain will not let me rest until I remember what movie, so I hit imdb.com, find the episode of ST:TNG I’m watching, figure out the actress’ name, then search on her movies and ta-da! Instant answer. (Her name is Fionnula Flanagan, she was in the movie The Others with Nicole Kidman, she played a ghost, and she also played Lt. Cmdr. Data’s “mother”, an android.)

Where was I? Oh, internet, iPod, and things that hurt. The iPod decided to put itself in disk mode. I had absolutely nothing to do with it, like randomly pushing buttons trying to get the thing to turn on or off since I didn’t know what I was doing and didn’t have documentation because if I had I would have known not to randomly push bottons to turn it on and there’s really no such thing as turning it off. So, I had to reset and reload. Ouch.

It’s time to start considering what to pack for Arizona. I like going on trips; I hate to pack. Ouch.

Little girl and I are going on a trail ride while we’re out west. I had not been on a horse since before my knee surgery last October, so I decided I’d better give it a try before we leave. Tuesday evening we went to the barn, chased down a green quarter horse named Henri who reminds me of my quarter horse we sold last year, saddled him up and I rode. Henri hates being made to stay on the rail, like my horse did. We argued a bit about where he was supposed to be until he finally gave in and stayed on the rail. He did try once to push me into the rail. He did not succeed. But, having not ridden in seven months, I awoke yesterday morning sore all over, and remembered reading that horseback riding is second only to swimming as the best overall body exercise. Ouch.

Things that make me say “Hmmmmmmmmmmmm…”:

My list of activities that have caused ouchies this week are things that are fun. Well, maybe not the reset and reload. But, playing with kids, or just spending time with hubby in the shade under the umbrella next to the wave pool at the amusement park, riding a horse, taking the trip after the painful packing is done. There’s something profound in there somewhere, I know it. Sort of ‘no pain, no gain’, only I can’t find words for ‘fun’ and ‘ouch’ that rhyme, because I just scratched my head.

I think my scalp is sunburned.

Ouch.

Wubby is graduated, and lived to tell about it. He almost didn’t because his grandma and mom and dad just about cleaned his clock before we left home Saturday morning. For some reason he just wasn’t in a hurry, even though he was supposed to be at the church auditorium where the ceremony was held AT LEAST 1 HOUR before things started. We left 90 minutes early, to make a 15 minute drive that took almost 30 minutes because of traffic (everyone else going to graduation), arrived to find an almost full parking lot and a line of parents, grandparents, siblings, etc. wrapped around the building. We headed for the crowd as Wubby joined his classmates inside.

As we stood in the crowd waiting for the doors to be opened, I noticed an old acquaintance of mine in the crowd ahead of us. Actually, he and I used to work together. Our sons were born about three months apart. Later in my career I worked FOR him. Then I left and went to work for another company two blocks over. He’s still at the same place; his job went from programming to managing to outsourcing. I guess he’s one of the few, maybe only, people left in the systems area. I wasn’t surprised to see him there. I knew his son was in Wubby’s class; they just didn’t run in the same crowds. But I was really surprised to see how he had aged since I’d seen him last. I like to think I don’t look my age (don’t burst my bubble here, please!), but he and his wife both seem to have aged way past their late-40s / early-50s actual age. I suppose outsourcing your friend’s and co-worker’s jobs could have that effect on you. Thank heavens I don’t know about that.

Once the actual ceremony began the teachers all came filing into the auditorium wearing their black robes and graduate hoods (those that have advanced degrees…) and another face in the crowd caught my eye. Another co-worker, from the same company and systems team, now teaches math at the high school. Again, I knew this. But seeing him, wearing the robe (no hood) on the faculty of the school where my daughter will be starting in August, threw me. He and I, how to say…….well, we worked together. Our families were friendly for a while. The working relationship, the family relationship, both, ended badly in that, hubby and I will not allow our daughter to be in any of his classes. He looked old too, and I’m older that he is.

As each of the 400+ graduates crossed the stage, he or she had an opportunity to “smile for the camera”, as the entire event was being professionally videotaped. Wubby was his somber, serious self. Other students gave various thumbs-up signals, etc. It was entertaining. More so were the various cheers offerred by parents, siblings, friends, etc. of the graduates. Individual applause was not allowed, but shouts of “Hallelujah!” et. al. were present in large numbers. The crowd favorite was a father who shouted “I love you!” as his son crossed the stage, then shouted even louder “Get a job!!!” as his son received his diploma. There were also families with kazoos and rehearsed cheers. The video should be a hoot.

So, for now, wubby is officially allowed to wear his cell phone on his belt if he chooses, go to the bathroom when he wants, without a hall pass, and various other things he couldn’t do in school. The class valedictorian recited an exhaustive list of these little jewels; I stole two of them. In addition, wubby has a job at the church, which means he’s getting paid to do something he would do for free. Except he did call me at home this morning to ask me something and prefaced his question with “I’m not trying to get you to do my job, you just know more about this than I do….” and then asked me to help him do part of his job, sort of.

At least he still asks.

Next week we’re heading to the Grand Canyon for a few days. Then it’s another 10 days and it’s off to teen camp in the mountains. Another three weeks or so and he’s off to college. And before we know it, his sister will be following right behind him.

But I can’t be this old!

 You captured our hearts the moment we met, and have held them hostage every day since. It’s hard to believe that something so small, so helpless, so innocent could wield such power.

Before you came into our lives we couldn’t imagine the radical changes that your presence would cause. We looked at you–and you looked back at us–and we all knew, instinctively, positively, that something beautiful, powerful and terrifying had happened to each one of us.

You came into the world, blinking your eyes as they adjusted to the harsh new light. Any small noise startled you, causing you to reach out for fear of falling. But we were there to catch you, safeguard you, reassure you that this new bright world was as safe a place as the dark, enclosing world you came from.

We had questions.

Are we ready to be parents? No.

Do we know what we’re doing? No.

How many ways can we mess this up? Quadrillions.

How do we raise a child? Carefully, with love, patience and prayers.

You were demanding, refusing to let the normal routines of our daily life interfere with your needs. We fed your hunger, kept you comfortable and safe, reassured you when you were afraid, laughed with you in play, watched you grow and celebrated each new milestone in your young life with encouragement and applause.

And grow you did. From crawling, to standing, to stumbling with each new step, to walking in the world on your own, to running at top speed from one new experience to another. From crying, laughing, squealing with delight over each new discovery. From babbling baby sounds, to “Pick up me!”

For six years we were there, holding on as you learned to push away, asserting your independence. Until the day we had to let you go, on your own, into the big world. You laughed the first day you climbed the steps into the big yellow bus; we cried as we watched you leave.

There were other leave-takings: your first trip with grandparents, the first time you spent the night at a friend’s, overnight field trips and church retreats. Leaving elementary school for middle school, leaving middle school for high school. With each step you entered a larger world as we pried our fingers away and let you go.

More questions:

What have we forgotten to teach you? Lots.

Have we prepared you for the next step? As much as we could.

Are you ready to go? You bet.

Are we ready to let you go? Are you kidding–NEVER!

And now, here you are. Speeding into adulthood while we wish you would apply the brakes, slow down, stay a little while longer. We’re not ready to let you go, Just as we weren’t ready when you arrived. We’ve done what was essential for your protection and well-being up to now; we will continue as you enter a larger world. Only now we can’t protect you from the potential dangers.

How do we let you go?

Carefully, with love, patience and prayers.

You laugh in celebration as you pack up the car and head out on your own to college.

We laugh–and cry–with you, as we watch you leave.

Yesterday was 8th grade graduation for little girl, and she won an academic medal for science. She earned one for social studies as well, but the teachers on her team decided to spread the joy around and give it to another student. Three cheers for affirmative action and political correctness!!! It was miserable in the gym, as we’ve been in heat wave mode since last week and the middle school gym is not air-conditioned adaquately, if at all. Yepper, here in the sweltering south, a gym with no a/c.

Back to little girl…she’s come a long way this year academically, in spite of public schooling I suppose. Actually, her school isn’t as bad as some, an advantage of living in a rural county. She called me from school Monday and asked me to pick her up early. So I jumped in the car, barefoot, and grabbed the chihuahua from he!!, and off we went. When I got to school I remembered that I have to go inside, sign her out and show a photo id. I went, barefoot and carrying the dog. Yeah, I’m a proud redneck.

On the way home, Rush was on the radio talking about global warming. LG asked me if global warming was real. I said I didn’t know, and I didn’t think the experts knew either because, in my opinion, they would need to have empirical (is that right?) data for more than the last 150 years. Like maybe for the last 10,000+ years, I don’t know. Anyway, it seems that Seattle or someplace on the left coast has decided to ban bonfires on the beach this summer, because bonfires contribute to global warming. Rush started talking about forest fires being much larger and more prolific than beach bonfires, so why don’t we ban forest fires? Oh, wait, because most of them are caused by lightning. Well, let’s ban lightning, alrighty? Little Girl was amazed at the obvious-ness of the argument. Miss Science!

Son had his last exam yesterday, finally. The past two weeks have been dragging for all of us. Graduation is this Saturday, 9:00 AM. He nailed the guinea-pig year of the new state-mandated senior graduation project. Thank heavens. Saturday is party day, complete with Lexington NC barbecue and family to help celebrate. It hasn’t hit him, or me, that he’s finished with high school. We’re both wondering when the shoe’s gonna drop.

Today has been the last semi-calm day for the next week or so. Tomorrow and Friday are get ready for graduation, Saturday is graduation, Sunday is recover from graduation. Monday is son’s first day at his summer job (student intern at the church). That leaves us about a week to pack for the first major family trip we’ve ever taken, to the Grand Canyon. LG hasn’t flown before, and she’s excited/terrified. I’m dragging the computer along so we can re-book canceled flights, etc. and we’re trying to pack everything in carry-ons to avoid any missing luggage issues. Fun and games.

Life is changing again, quickly. My babies aren’t babies any more. One of them is grown! The other one is officially a high-schooler, with honors assignments to do before August 25. My mom’s gentleman friend has been away from his home this week, but he’ll be back soon. Son’s relationship with girlfriend is rather serious as well.

Changes, changes, changes….

Thank goodness Alecto wrote detailed instructions on how to do this. And I still managed to get it not-quite-right because my mosaic didn’t come with links back to Flickr. Oh well….

1. Bubbling Under, 2. Rosie & Buster Brown, 3. Another Goal, 4. Royal Daisy, 5. 198522173_6db9e8ee30_o, 6. Wasted away in Margaritaville, 7. The Volcano Rumbles, 8. Dessert in Grand Central Market, 9. Nature, 10. End Of The Day, 11. Basket Case , 12. Timeless & Temporary

The concept:
a. Type your answer to each of the questions below into Flickr Search.
b. Using only the first page, pick an image.
c. Copy and paste each of the URLs for the images into fd’s mosaic maker.

The Questions:

1. What is your first name? Denise (I have no idea what the water drop has to do w/ my name.)
2. What is your favorite food? Chocolate (The chocolate dogs cracked me up.)
3. What high school did you go to? Salem Spartans (I cheated and used ’salem spartans’ and found our HS football team.)
4. What is your favorite color? Royal Purple
5. Who is your celebrity crush? Mike Rowe  (Because he reminds me of my hubby. He’s cute, cuddly and has a wicked sense of humor.)
6. Favorite drink? Margarita (I only get Margaritas in the Dominican Republic. The squirrels are more fortunate.)
7. Dream vacation? Costa Rica 
8. Favorite dessert? New York cheesecake 
9. What you want to be when you grow up? A teacher (And Nature is one of the best teachers.)
10. What do you love most in life? My husband (This pic actually reminds me of a place our whole family used to enjoy visiting and reconnecting.)
11. One Word to describe you. Basketcase. Self-explanatory.
12. Your Flickr name. Cielo (The title of this is “Timeless and Temporary”.)

So, why these pix? Because I like them. 

Husband just told me that there’s horse hair in the car. Figured I’d been to the barn and loved on daughter’s horse, thus transferring horse hair to the car. The problem is that I visited the horse yesterday, when he was driving the car that he thinks has horse hair in it from my visit to the barn that occurred when he had the car.

Confused? I was too.

Because it’s not horse hair. It’s my hair.

I drove the car on Tuesday. I got a haircut on Tuesday. My hair was short to begin with and now it’s shorter, but not short enough. I may have to get it trimmed some more this afternoon, so it will stand up on top and be spikey.

And it will start to be its natural color, which is a mystery to me since it hasn’t been its natural color since 1977 or thereabouts.

It’s CG’s fault. Yes, I’ve been too chicken to see what shade of steel grey is naturally growing from my head. I used to pay a professional to color my hair, but haven’t done that in quite some time. I have, however, become rather adept in doing it myself so that it at least appears to be a hair color that does occur in nature, on people. Just not on this people.

To me, grey hair is a badge of honor. Something that you earn from years of being a grown-up and dealing with grown-up issues the way a grown-up is supposed to. My mom has beautiful hair; her sister has beautiful hair. They’ve earned it. My mom earned it from years of working hard to take care of me and my dad, and her parents, and her siblings. She earned it working in corporate America, being a strong woman in a man’s world, telling the truth instead of saying what she knew people wanted to hear. She earned it from living through the illnesses and passing of her parents and my dad, her partner through forty-three years of growing up and grown-up life. She earned it by leaving her hometown and moving here to be with us.

Now she’s entering a new arena, uncharted territory. She’s in love, and it’s an amazing thing. My baby girl hasn’t really fallen for a boy yet, just her horse. But the symptoms are the same. She talks about her love; when she can’t be with her love, she wants to be, and counts the days or hours until she can be with him again. She wants to know everything about him, and each new detail adds another piece to the unfolding map of him. She wants to learn about his interests, and wants to share her interests with him. She wants to try things she’s never tried before, because he enjoys doing them.

The first time I saw my daughter gallop around the ring on her horse I was terrified and elated, all at the same time. Terrified: what if she falls off? What if she loses control of her horse? She could get hurt, very badly. Elated: man does that look like fun! They are both, girl and horse, having an absolute blast doing this. Yes, it looks scary, but look at them together! They aren’t scared; they’re having too much fun to be scared. Little girl lost some confidence with her riding abilities and is now afraid to gallop. I’ve encouraged her to try it again. Her abilities are more than adequate; she just needs to get past her fear.

Now I see my mom, preparing to do her own gallop around the ring. But this time I feel much elation; little fear. She knows enough about the things that should terrify her, and me. And yes, it looks a little scary to both of us. But, oh is she having fun!

It’s a picture of joy.

Back to my “horse” hair.

The question is not about whether or not I can handle the display of my hair’s natural color.

The question is: have I earned the right to wear it?

Sunday was my turn to play again. It was also Graduation Sunday and my baby boy is a graduate, or will be on June 14. He might as well be now, since he just informed me that he doesn’t need to be at school tomorrow until 9:30, and Thursday he gets the day off, which leaves one exam on Friday, one next Monday and the last next Tuesday. Then he’s free until next Friday when he has graduation practice before (finally) the big day next Saturday.

I agreed to play last Sunday because I thought it would keep me from being nervous for my son. It did, and it didn’t. We have two worship services; he had already spoken at the first one. So I had a chance to choke up and swallow the huge lump in my throat when I saw him walk in the sanctuary in his gown. And I got to choke up several more times during the service as I listened to each of the seniors talk about their journey thus far and where they were hoping to go next. And of course to just cry when my baby spoke about open doors and open hearts. When the time to play the prelude came around things felt pretty normal. I began the piece, a very easy one actually, and it was going ok.

Then I looked up and saw my son, along with the other graduates, walking into the sanctuary. And I lost it again, got lost in the notes and just started trying to find a G chord to land on so I could quit playing. I just wanted to end it and get away from the keyboard. What began as a relatively smooth rendition ended close to disaster. Beginning to ending; it was terrible.

But the graduation services, and the luncheon that followed, were wonderful. Our pastor recounted that these students were bed babies when he came to the church eighteen years ago. It doesn’t seem possible that it’s been eighteen years, but it has. We’ve known some of these families since before kids. Our children have grown up together in Sunday school and day care and church clubs. During the luncheon our youth minister provided a way for the students and family members to offer blessings to one another. She gave each student a key chain. There were keys on each table. Anyone who wanted to speak a blessing to the students also gave them a key. (a bad description of a very meaningful experience…) We listened as students and parents and friends pronounced blessings upon one another. It was humbling to hear others speak kind words to our son, and to hear him speak kind words to his friends. All in all, a wonderful ending to a wonderful day.

The next two weeks will be filled with endings, and beginnings. My little boy is finishing high school, winding down his childhood and taking some baby steps toward adulthood. Ending and beginning.

We’ve had some ups and downs during his four years of high school. Actually, it’s probably been more downs than ups. High school started out tough for him, personally and academically. But each year he’s gotten better and better, so that now he will be finishing on a high. Rough beginning, super ending.

In August he’ll be going off to college.

A new beginning.