The other day a friend posted something pretty funny on facebook. It was supposedly a list of proverbs rewritten by some teacher's first grade class. The teacher had given the kids the first part of a proverb and they completed the sentences. The results were hilarious. Too hilarious- made both Eli and I wonder if these were not the product of first graders, but rather something a bit more contrived. But in the end it didn't matter. Whoever posted it originally was trying for a laugh, and laughter he got. Eli and I could not even read some of them out loud, we were having trouble breathing due to our raucous laughter. We both were wiping away tears and getting stern looks from Jon, who was trying to keep down the noise level so Theo could get to sleep. We apologized and piped down, but the giggles reverberated through us for quite a while longer.
A little mini-debate erupted on FB around the post. Were they real? Contrived? I don't know- and really, I don't care. Their purpose was to entertain and that they did. So why is it that I get so enraged when I read some piece of fabulous non-fiction only to find out it's been fabricated? It's happened twice to my book club in the last few years. First it was Greg Mortenson's Three Cups of Tea. We were moved, motivated, encouraged by what this fellow Minnesotan was doing halfway across the world. Only was he? When Krakauer broke the story that Mortenson fabricated much of his story, AND was working a little free and loose with the contributions to his cause, I was outraged. Outraged. Called my mom right away so that she could share my angst. And she did. On top of that rage was real disappointment for all the people who were swindled by Mortenson's claims- the school kids who sponsored Pennies for Peace and all that. Surely a percentage of that money did end up building schools in Pakistan, but not nearly as much as we were led to believe, it seems.
The second disappointment came with the reading of The Long Walk which inspired the movie The Way Back. I think that the movie originally claimed to be 'based on true events' but now says 'inspired by true events'. Well, I could make that same claim about anything from Winnie the Pooh to Star Wars. There are true events that INSPIRE a fight between good and evil, right? Anway- The Long Walk claims to be the story of a Polish prisoner of war who escapes from a gulag in Siberia with several others and walks to India. India. And for most of the journey, the author had me right along with him. The walk TO the gulag was awe inspiring enough. And that was probably mostly true- the awful method the Russians had of transporting their prisoners was amazing. How any prisoners survived is beyond me. My hands are cold and bothered right now inside my 68 degree house. How did prisoners walk across Russia in the winter holding onto a chain without mittens on? And much of the first part of the escape is believable. Sure, crossing an icy river and then walking on through Siberian winter landscapes in wet clothing was a bit much to contemplate (especially since I was reading this in the winter...) but then he takes the crew across the Gobi, without water, and into the Himalayas. Whey didn't they stop somewhere earlier? And why did he have to include a siting of two yetis? Yep, that's right. Two yetis blocked their path as they tried to go over a pass in the mountains. So they had to sit and observe them. Yetis. Abominable Snowmen. No lie. Well, actually, a lie! But I'm not lying about a guy including yetis in a work of nonfiction and expecting us to believe it. That part is, sadly, true.
That said, I was the only one who came to book club crying Imposter! Fake! Either the rest of my book clubbers (all highly intelligent fabulous women) missed the section about the yeti, or wrote that off as a flight of fancy in an otherwise legit book. To me it threw the whole dang thing into doubt and a little research on the web turned up much evidence that this author was given to many flights of fancy. I shared this with my bookclub and demoralized everyone. I felt a little bad for doing that, but I am going to let the author shoulder most of the blame, even though he has since passed on.
Theo and I just saw the movie "Shackleton: An Antarctic Adventure" at the Omni theater. I was moved to tears. He's my new hero. I'd follow him anywhere. And I stalwartly refuse to do any poking around on the internet about authenticity. Because if that story is fabricated I will not be able to recover my faith in humanity.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
My Inheritance
The other day after school my dad slipped me a 16 oz can of Houdini. He does have a habit of slipping me odd little things when I least expect it, so I took it in stride. But as he explained what this Houdini was and why he has it and exactly how much he has, I realized that he might be slipping me Houdini on quite a regular basis, for the rest of his life. Apparently he was introduced to this wonder product by the maintenance team at the Florida condo where he and Jean stayed in November. As far as I can tell it's much like WD40, only with a better name. It can ease up any lock you squirt it into. And creaky hinges, and squeaky doors, and you name it....probably would help my achy hip a hell of a lot more than my dumb old stretches do. Now, I realize that a seaside condo with the salty ocean breezes may experience more rusty lock issues than other places, but the way my dad tells it, seeing the maintenance team with their handy can of Houdini was a regular experience. And it wowed dad every time, the results this Houdini could bring on. Made me wonder if just maybe Rodg was creating tasks for the handymen while he was in Florida just to get another chance to see the amazing product do it's job.
When he got home he looked around for his own Houdini supplier. Found it. But the only way to purchase it was by the case. Now, I'm not sure how many bottles come in a case, but I'm guessing at upwards of 24. And knowing that the can of WD40 I have in my basement was purchased in probably 1982 and is still going strong....well, makes me think that Rodg is going to be handing out cans of Houdini for the rest of his life. Hey, you're having a birthday? Here's a can of Houdini! Happy graduation Eli! Here's some Houdini! You know how those locks can stick in college! Christmas stockings, anniversaries, new jobs, all opportunities to give away a little Houdini love. Ours sits next to it's WD40 cousin in the basement, awaiting a call to action. I noticed this morning that the doorknob in the kitchen is acting up, I may just have to pull it out and give it a try this afternoon. Watch for a testimonial here soon!
PS. I am fairly sure I saw my dad messing with the same doorknob last Wednesday. I think he might have been sabotaging it so that I had to give my Houdini a try. Couldn't wait for me to get on the Houdini bandwagon on my own time, could he?
When he got home he looked around for his own Houdini supplier. Found it. But the only way to purchase it was by the case. Now, I'm not sure how many bottles come in a case, but I'm guessing at upwards of 24. And knowing that the can of WD40 I have in my basement was purchased in probably 1982 and is still going strong....well, makes me think that Rodg is going to be handing out cans of Houdini for the rest of his life. Hey, you're having a birthday? Here's a can of Houdini! Happy graduation Eli! Here's some Houdini! You know how those locks can stick in college! Christmas stockings, anniversaries, new jobs, all opportunities to give away a little Houdini love. Ours sits next to it's WD40 cousin in the basement, awaiting a call to action. I noticed this morning that the doorknob in the kitchen is acting up, I may just have to pull it out and give it a try this afternoon. Watch for a testimonial here soon!
PS. I am fairly sure I saw my dad messing with the same doorknob last Wednesday. I think he might have been sabotaging it so that I had to give my Houdini a try. Couldn't wait for me to get on the Houdini bandwagon on my own time, could he?
After school melee
Theo is participating in an after school program called Destination Imagination or DI for short. This is a program that encourages creative problem solving and collaboration. It doesn't always succeed. Back when Eli tried it he learned a lot about finding a balance between doing the work for others or failing as a group or figuring out how to motivate classmates to work harder. It caused tears of frustration out of that level headed kid. He would hold long conversations mostly with himself as he tried to figure out what to do with his wild group. "Should I just write the whole script since so and so never did it? He just played math games all day!" "But I don't want them to think that if they don't do things for themselves that someone else will just step in and do it for them." "But I don't want to be the worst group at the competition!" I tried to interject wisdom I have gained over my many years of collaborative work, but he wasn't really looking for my advice. He was just airing grievances. In the end he did manage to coerce a little more effort out of the group and they put in a respectable performance. Kind of.
Theo is in a group that seems to either have an easier task or they are secretly really efficient. All I see them do is impale each other on nerf swords and practice dying. But somehow they have manged to create a 3 minute movie trailer about the 100 years war. It's actually kind of touching, how one of them ends up cutting the head off of a childhood friend. Just wish the victor could emote a little more remorse, instead of the glee that comes with a well choreographed nerf sword fight. Because it is well choreographed, despite the fact that I never see them talking or working or doing anything beyond poking, impaling, charging, slashing, yelling.
It has become my role to try to keep the injuries to a minimum every Tuesday from 3 to 5pm. It's hard work. Add to that a couple prop making sessions over the weekends and you have one mom who is really looking forward to the competition coming. And going. But Theo enjoys it immensely and it helps him get to school on Tuesday and Thursday mornings, which I can not complain about. That doesn't mean I look forward to 3pm today....
Theo is in a group that seems to either have an easier task or they are secretly really efficient. All I see them do is impale each other on nerf swords and practice dying. But somehow they have manged to create a 3 minute movie trailer about the 100 years war. It's actually kind of touching, how one of them ends up cutting the head off of a childhood friend. Just wish the victor could emote a little more remorse, instead of the glee that comes with a well choreographed nerf sword fight. Because it is well choreographed, despite the fact that I never see them talking or working or doing anything beyond poking, impaling, charging, slashing, yelling.
It has become my role to try to keep the injuries to a minimum every Tuesday from 3 to 5pm. It's hard work. Add to that a couple prop making sessions over the weekends and you have one mom who is really looking forward to the competition coming. And going. But Theo enjoys it immensely and it helps him get to school on Tuesday and Thursday mornings, which I can not complain about. That doesn't mean I look forward to 3pm today....
Volunteer gold
My volunteering at Expo this year has been a little hit or miss. I'm technically supposed to be the 'tutor' on my two days off for Eli's online math crew. But the three boys undertaking online algebra have not come close to needing my help even once. They get it and are cruising through the material unaided. So I sometimes stroll down to Theo's class. Although at that time he is not in there- he's off doing math in a different classroom. But there are plenty of kids in Jan's class who could use a little extra attention. And I am a fairly confident math speaker. I even speak it with a couple different accents, in case kids don't understand my native way of speaking math. The problem is that these kids do math in new ways. Lattice method? Partial Quotient Division? I've seen my boys bring this stuff home and never quite figured out what to do with it. For the first half of the year I kind of blustered my way through when I worked with the kids in Jan's room- but in early February the gig was up when I was trying to do an example for Vernon. I was multiplying the old school way (which doesn't have a name as far as I can tell beyond 'multiplying') when Vernon asked point blank if I knew how to use the lattice method. I had to admit I did not. Which thrilled him. He then taught me. And he did a good job- I actually get it now. Not sure I will ever find a use for it, but it does make sense to me at long last. Vernon was tickled to have taught me, as he should have been.
After math that day I was sitting in the back of the class gathering my goods as Jan was talking with the kids about the upcoming Valentine's situation. She laid down the rules- if you make a card for one kid in the class, you make one for every kid in the class. But. But. If you wanted to go outside of the classroom you could pick and choose. Make a card for the principal, the secretary, one kid in kindergarten, whoever you want. Hands went up, kids working to get the rules firmly in grasp. Can I make one for just Haakon next door? Just Mr. Yerama? Vernon's little hand went up and he looked back at me as he asked, "Can we make one for Gretchen?" Of course!
For the record, he didn't. Or it got lost. Or something. But the thought that he at one point might have had half a plan to make one for the silly woman who muddles through math with him warmed my heart.
After math that day I was sitting in the back of the class gathering my goods as Jan was talking with the kids about the upcoming Valentine's situation. She laid down the rules- if you make a card for one kid in the class, you make one for every kid in the class. But. But. If you wanted to go outside of the classroom you could pick and choose. Make a card for the principal, the secretary, one kid in kindergarten, whoever you want. Hands went up, kids working to get the rules firmly in grasp. Can I make one for just Haakon next door? Just Mr. Yerama? Vernon's little hand went up and he looked back at me as he asked, "Can we make one for Gretchen?" Of course!
For the record, he didn't. Or it got lost. Or something. But the thought that he at one point might have had half a plan to make one for the silly woman who muddles through math with him warmed my heart.
Winter!
Back in early December, before the boys and I found out that this winter would shape up to be the wimpiest in all of our lifetimes, we decided that we would give Jon a day of downhill skiing for Christmas. But then the snow never arrived, and even though we knew that downhill areas were making their own, it kept falling off our radar. But then a quiet 4 day weekend rolled into town, and after relaxing through Friday we made last minute plans to make a run to Duluth on Saturday for a 24 hour getaway.
We planned to try xc skiing at Snowflake just north of Duluth Saturday afternoon and as we drove onto their land we were sure that their website that proclaimed "great skiing!" was perhaps updated last in 2011. Brown everywhere. Except for the 4 foot wide trail through the woods. Would never have guessed that I would agree with their web proclamation. It was great, even once you factored in the bump up in rating for just being out on skis this dumb old winter. The sun was out, the jackets came off, and we cruised through a rolling 5k in that golden glow that happens just before sunset on a winter afternoon.
After skiing we repaired to our favorite Duluth lodging- the home of the Oachs that is perched right up for the great lake. We had a lovely evening of food, conversation, and games with these lovely Duluthians. The next day promised a great forecast for downhill- temps in the 30's, lots of sun, and most importantly for a ski hill that faces Lake Superior- no wind. Theo went to bed a little unsure of his commitment level and was looking for alternatives. Something must have been worked out in his dreams, because he woke up ready for the challenge.
After gearing up and forking over a whole lot of cash the four of us headed out to the bunny hill. After a couple trips down I admit I was dreading the day, thinking that it would be the longest day of my entire life. Theo was not at all interested in learning any of the subtleties of control. Once he got up the nerve to point his skis downhill he was off, without an attempt to turn or slow. Somehow everyone else on the hill avoided him for several turns, but I knew that luck could not hold. Eli is a heck of a snowplower, so control is not his issue. His problem is falling. Or rather, getting back up once he falls. He flailed around in the snow at my feet, frustrated with his skis, the hill, himself, and me, the evil mom who would not lend a hand. This was one of those sink or swim moments I felt. He had to figure out how to get up. I'm sure I was judged by other parents around me as they watched me watch my son suffer. Eventually I did have to give in and offer a pole for him to use for support. He hauled himself up and got back on the treadmill thingy, casting dirty looks at me over his shoulder. I caught Jon's eye and mouthed "merry christmas".
But then we decided to ditch the bunny hill and try our luck elsewhere. The hills at Spirit mountain are long for Minnesota standards. The green we chose was not overly steep, but given the length I figured Theo could get up to some body-damaging speeds if he kept up with his no turn/no plow/no stop ways. I pointed to a ridge partway down and said, "It is imperative that you stop at that spot. Fall down if nothing else." He nodded, knees shaking, real fear in his eyes. Eli took off in his snow plow and made slow progress toward the designated spot. Theo tried to follow but chickened out. Girded his loins and tried again. Nope. Couldn't get himself to turn his skis downhill. We coaxed and prodded and eventually he started traversing the hill sideways. This was going to take awhile. So I skied over to Eli and knocked him over. Figured he would have plenty of time to get back up. I'm not as evil as I sound- I knocked him over on a steep-ish slope and I knew he'd be able to get on his feet with the help of the slope. And he did. Was kind of proud. So I pushed him down again. And again. I like to think he appreciated it. By the time he popped up for the fourth time Theo was approaching at this snail's pace. I didn't mind the snail action- he was helmet-less and I really really like his head so this pace was working for me better than the bunnyhill bombing.
By the time we got down to the bottom of the second hill both boys had cracked the code of skiing in their own way. Eli's snowplow was just a touch looser, he was still 105% in control, but had found a way to get a bit of speed. Theo somehow figured out how to carve back and forth across the slopes like a real skier. His grin was huge and he was starting to keep an eye out for 'jumps'. He felt like he was getting some air, and the upper part of his body was, so we found no reason to tell him that his skis were really not leaving the ground. I'm always ok with perceived danger stepping in for real danger when it comes to my little risk-taker.
In the end we had to force Theo off the hill hours after we had first intended to leave. He would have shut down the place if we had let him. All four of us ended up enjoying Jon's gift a great deal. The pleasure of watching your boys grow in confidence and power and skill while also basking in some sweet late winter sunshine is a gift indeed.
We planned to try xc skiing at Snowflake just north of Duluth Saturday afternoon and as we drove onto their land we were sure that their website that proclaimed "great skiing!" was perhaps updated last in 2011. Brown everywhere. Except for the 4 foot wide trail through the woods. Would never have guessed that I would agree with their web proclamation. It was great, even once you factored in the bump up in rating for just being out on skis this dumb old winter. The sun was out, the jackets came off, and we cruised through a rolling 5k in that golden glow that happens just before sunset on a winter afternoon.
After skiing we repaired to our favorite Duluth lodging- the home of the Oachs that is perched right up for the great lake. We had a lovely evening of food, conversation, and games with these lovely Duluthians. The next day promised a great forecast for downhill- temps in the 30's, lots of sun, and most importantly for a ski hill that faces Lake Superior- no wind. Theo went to bed a little unsure of his commitment level and was looking for alternatives. Something must have been worked out in his dreams, because he woke up ready for the challenge.
After gearing up and forking over a whole lot of cash the four of us headed out to the bunny hill. After a couple trips down I admit I was dreading the day, thinking that it would be the longest day of my entire life. Theo was not at all interested in learning any of the subtleties of control. Once he got up the nerve to point his skis downhill he was off, without an attempt to turn or slow. Somehow everyone else on the hill avoided him for several turns, but I knew that luck could not hold. Eli is a heck of a snowplower, so control is not his issue. His problem is falling. Or rather, getting back up once he falls. He flailed around in the snow at my feet, frustrated with his skis, the hill, himself, and me, the evil mom who would not lend a hand. This was one of those sink or swim moments I felt. He had to figure out how to get up. I'm sure I was judged by other parents around me as they watched me watch my son suffer. Eventually I did have to give in and offer a pole for him to use for support. He hauled himself up and got back on the treadmill thingy, casting dirty looks at me over his shoulder. I caught Jon's eye and mouthed "merry christmas".
But then we decided to ditch the bunny hill and try our luck elsewhere. The hills at Spirit mountain are long for Minnesota standards. The green we chose was not overly steep, but given the length I figured Theo could get up to some body-damaging speeds if he kept up with his no turn/no plow/no stop ways. I pointed to a ridge partway down and said, "It is imperative that you stop at that spot. Fall down if nothing else." He nodded, knees shaking, real fear in his eyes. Eli took off in his snow plow and made slow progress toward the designated spot. Theo tried to follow but chickened out. Girded his loins and tried again. Nope. Couldn't get himself to turn his skis downhill. We coaxed and prodded and eventually he started traversing the hill sideways. This was going to take awhile. So I skied over to Eli and knocked him over. Figured he would have plenty of time to get back up. I'm not as evil as I sound- I knocked him over on a steep-ish slope and I knew he'd be able to get on his feet with the help of the slope. And he did. Was kind of proud. So I pushed him down again. And again. I like to think he appreciated it. By the time he popped up for the fourth time Theo was approaching at this snail's pace. I didn't mind the snail action- he was helmet-less and I really really like his head so this pace was working for me better than the bunnyhill bombing.
By the time we got down to the bottom of the second hill both boys had cracked the code of skiing in their own way. Eli's snowplow was just a touch looser, he was still 105% in control, but had found a way to get a bit of speed. Theo somehow figured out how to carve back and forth across the slopes like a real skier. His grin was huge and he was starting to keep an eye out for 'jumps'. He felt like he was getting some air, and the upper part of his body was, so we found no reason to tell him that his skis were really not leaving the ground. I'm always ok with perceived danger stepping in for real danger when it comes to my little risk-taker.
In the end we had to force Theo off the hill hours after we had first intended to leave. He would have shut down the place if we had let him. All four of us ended up enjoying Jon's gift a great deal. The pleasure of watching your boys grow in confidence and power and skill while also basking in some sweet late winter sunshine is a gift indeed.
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