The Past Weekend

I feel compelled to say something about this past weekend, but I’m finding it difficult. It was one of those all too rare weekends where everyone was around- albeit with staggered and overlapping schedules.

Jake had actually been up since Thursday, having returned earlier in the day from a vacation. Helaina was around for the weekend, like usual. But unlike usual, she worked most of the day on Saturday and Sunday. Rachael came home for visit that started on Sunday morning and ended on Tuesday with Helaina and I bringing her back to the bus station. And Sam, of course, was around to help me all weekend.

My weekend started officially on Friday night with me taking down the remainder of the long ago abandoned play structure I had built for the kids about twenty years ago. On Saturday, Jake and I brought the dismembered remains to the dump in the apparently overloaded van- managing to break the rear axle in the process. We made it back in time to take care of the usual Saturday mid-day errands with Sam, this time bringing Jake along so we could stock him up on groceries and supplies for his inevitable departure in the coming days.

Later Saturday, we visited with family, stopping at a couple of stores on our way back home.

Sunday morning, Helaina left for work while the rest of us went to pick up a much drained and very tired Rachael from the bus station- or more accurately, near the bus station. After some hugging and holding and recharging, we packed her and her belongings into the car and from there we went to the flea market- Helaina-less.

Back at home on Sunday afternoon, Jake took off to visit with old friends while I cooked out, cooking way too much, like usual. This time, I had the excuse of adding it to the pile of groceries Jake was going to be taking back with him.

Sunday night, Helaina, Rachael, Jake and I went to a late night movie. This was at the same theater I had brought the three of them to to see “Toy Story” almost twenty years earlier. I thought about this as I sat there waiting for the movie to start. And I thought about how that would have been about the same time that I built the kid’s structure that I had just finished dismantling.

Monday was spent sending Jake on his way in the late morning and the afternoon was spent in various aspects of cleaning.

Tuesday morning, Rachael packed up and Helaina and I brought her back to the bus station, stopping at a store on our way back.

What struck me about the weekend was how utterly ordinary the weekend would have been, had this been several years ago. The weekends were always special back then, but I remember thinking about this inevitable moment in time and how what was once ordinary, will become scarce as the years pass by.

Another One Down

There’s a lot of construction going on around town. The old building of one car dealerships has been torn down and they’re in the process of rebuilding. Presumably it will be larger and without the same, early twentieth century appearance.

The phased construction of the new high school seems to be moving right along, too- at least judging by the huge dirt piles I can see in the distance, whenever I drive by.

And they’re doing some type of major construction at a gas station down the road from me. At first it looked like they were only replacing the underground tanks, but now I’m not sure what's going on. Next to this gas station stood an old, ugly, unoccupied building. I’m sure this building had long ago been a gas station as well, but that was before my time. I only knew it as a taxi cab company.

This wasn't one of those taxi cab companies that operated with a fleet of shiny yellow, cookie cutter-like vehicles. Their fleet consisted of two, maybe three vehicles- at least one of which always seemed to be a large, rusting out old station wagon. The station wagon, along with the other, even older vehicles, each had a magnetic sign on the side which proclaimed it to be a taxi. Without the sign, it would have been a natural assumption that any of those vehicles were waiting for the annual demolition derby.

The vehicles didn’t detract from the look of the old building, but they didn’t enhance it either. It all just blurred into the same overall muddy look, like some old sepia photograph of some old eyesore.

But the taxicab company stopped operating several years ago and the building has sat idle ever since.

Whenever I drove by the building, which was often, it always looked to me like it was so out of place. It seemed to me that it would have looked more natural, if that's the right word for it, sitting on the outskirts of a long dead boom-town out in the middle of a desert somewhere- with nothing around but sand, cacti and maybe the occasional tumbleweed rolling by.

Whenever I would drive by, usually one of the kids would be with me, and as we would pass this old, deserted eyesore, I would ask, “I wonder what they’ll ever do with that old building?” The most I usually got for a response would be something long the lines of a muttered, “I don’t know…” It was  type of response you give when you're thinking, “Oh no, here it comes again…” Most of the time though, I would get no response at all. I think everybody, myself included, knew I wasn’t really looking for a answer.

The old building has been torn down now. It happened sometime in the last few weeks. I noticed it just after my car went by and it was one of those, “Hey, wait a minute” moments, where you crane your neck to catch a fleeting glimpse after you’ve already passed it by.

I’ve driven by the lot many times since- and I’m surprised to find that I kind of miss seeing that old place. Here’s a picture I posted a while back,of Sam out in front of the now gone building.

Today's Brief Comment

I hate dealing with the IEP Process.

Friday Night Double Feature

I've once again been so lax in updating this blog that tonight I offer not ONE, not THREE, but TWO video clips for your viewing pleasure. Yes, you read that right- TWO video clips- just for you.

I know, I know- you’re thinking, “Wow, you didn’t need to do that! We completely understand that there is only so much time in the day for someone, such as yourself, who lives a busy and action packed lifestyle- of which we are greatly envious. And, by the way, we are undeserving of your thoughtfulness and attention.” Yes, I know. And yet... I keep writing.

Anyway, the first clip is from a movie called “Marooned”. The second clip is from the film, “Let it Be”. Again, you’re probably saying to yourself, “This makes no sense! Not only did one film come out 1969 and the other in 1970- but one film appeals to your youthful fascination with space while the other film appeals to your love of the Beatles. Those films have absolutely nothing in common!!!”

I’m sorry to inform you that you are once again wrong. Oh, you’re right about the release dates and you were right about your unworthiness mentioned in the paragraph above, so I’ll give you points for that (and thus allow you to keep on reading). But on the bigger issue that these films have nothing in common- you have completely and utterly failed.

You see, both of these films are ones that my big my sister, Karen, took me to see when they first came out. I don’t really know how you missed this connection.

The thing is, as far as I know (and Karen, if you ever read this, don’t ever tell me otherwise), unlike some other unnamed members of my family, who would only take me to a movie if Dad made them (Steve), Karen would do it on her own- and she never put up a stink about it, at least not in front of me (which was also unlike the aforementioned unnamed member of my family).

“Marooned” was seen at a theater in the neighboring town. It was a theater much like the one in my home town, except this one was showing “Marooned” and my hometown theater wasn’t. This was also the only movie I ever remember seeing at that place.

What made the movie special (other than it being about space, and seeing it with my big sister), was that we saw it at night. That was something that didn’t happen a whole lot of times, not at my age back then- and, by the way, that was also something that never happened with any other individual member of my family (ahem). Seeing a move at night, especially a space movie, made it even more awesome.

As I recall, we saw “Let it Be” in Boston. I could be wrong about this, but that’s highly unlikely. What I remember about it was that there was some sweaty old fat guy in a trench coat outside of the theater, trying to sell me scalped tickets- which was additionally weird because there was absolutely no crowd waiting to see this movie. I think this guy was stuck in 1964.

Anyway, while Karen was purchasing our tickets legally at the theater window, I stood there stammering and slowly reaching into my pocket for my candy money, while this guy held me in his Svengali-like grip. Karen came back with the tickets, told the guy, “Nope, not interested” and walked me away from him. I credit her with saving me my candy money and therefore, she bears some responsibility for the lousy condition of my teeth.

It’s funny, but in both of these cases, I don’t remember much about the movies themselves- just the experience of going. Now, for this one time only, I allow you to share in the experience(s), as well. Join me, if you must, for a stroll down Memory Lane- my Memory Lane, not yours.

You’re welcome.

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Morning Commute... with Haiku!

I had the pleasure of following a Coke truck through the winding, forest lined hills on my way to work this morning. Since the driver of the truck never went above fifteen miles per hour (on a road I usually travel at fifty), it gave me a special opportunity to drink in nature's majesty (and the back of the Coke truck, including exhaust) for twenty minutes on this beautiful spring morning. In honor of you, my truck driving friend, I offer this simple haiku-

Coke truck in my way,
Why do you torment me so?
Jerkface- learn to drive.

Melting into Dusk

As I sat on the couch the other night, I was thinking about the warm weather that’s finally upon us, and with the quiet of the evening, I found my thoughts drifting back to a couple of springs, many years ago. This was a time when the girls were small and they played softball. I was going to say that this was about 5 or 6 years ago but when I really thought about it, I realized it was closer to 15 years ago or more. I can’t remember exactly how old they were, but it would have been when they were in elementary school.

Helaina was the first to join a softball team. But Rachael came along on just about every practice and game. And Jake came along as well.

When it came to the practices, they were usually held at one of several fields scattered around town. These were fields that I drove by all the time, but I never really noticed they were there. Up until the girls played softball, I never had reason to.

The practice fields were, maybe not quite in disrepair- but seemed borderline neglected. One field was so old, it was hard to get any real sense of where the diamond was. From any distance, the only way you could tell where a plate was, was because one of the players would be standing somewhere near it- marking it like a flag on an overgrown golf course.

There was another field that was in slightly better shape and it even had the luxury of having bleachers. When I wasn’t sitting on the bleachers watching the practice, and when Jake wasn’t off exploring, we would sometimes head down towards the parking lot where there were some rusting basketball hoops, and we would shoot hoops together.

Occasionally Rachael would join us in playing our version of basketball, but she mostly spent her time chasing after the stray foul balls that were getting hit in all sorts of unpredictable directions. I think she worked harder than a lot of the kids “officially” in the outfield, and I think it was because of this that she decided to join a team the following spring.

While the scattered fields showed signs of wear, the multi-field park was a showcase. It was at this park where most of the games and practices took place.

The area consisted of four separate, fenced in fields- all within sight of each other. These fields were joined by a common driveway, with plenty of parking. There was even a snack bar. I don’t remember if there were any bathrooms, but with four fields worth of kids, many of which had one or more parents with them, I’m pretty sure there had to be.

These fields were surrounded by a main road on one side, and the other three sides were surrounded by forests. Towards the back of the fields, there was an even older dirt road which led to a clearing. The clearing was kind of a dumping ground- not of trash and garbage, but of rocks and stumps and tall piles of dirt. I had always assumed, but don’t know for sure, that this was a result of clearing the land for the ball fields.

When we went to games at these fields, Jake would bring along his foot-powered scooter and ride the paths and the dirt piles.

Though many of the games and practices fell on the weekends, many did not. The ones on the weekend allowed for a slightly more leisurely pace in getting gathered up and heading out to the fields, but the ones during the week made for a packed schedule.

When it came to weeknight games, I would rush home from work. The kids would have to wrap up any homework they might have had, and if they weren’t wearing tee shirts and hats already, they would have to run and find them, along with their gloves. I would attempt to throw together something quick for them to eat- usually it would have to be something semi-portable that they could eat along the way.

After loading them in the van, along with the scooter or a basketball, we would take off. 

Once we got to the field, usually the multi- field park, the girls would meet up with their teams and get situated while Jake and I unloaded his scooter. He would be off like a shot and I would stay around to watch as the games began.

Once the ball was rolling (so to speak), I would grab a hot dog at the snack bar. If the game happened to be at one of the other fields, I was out of luck.

As the games went on, my time was divided between watching whichever girl’s team was playing that night, and following Jake down to the clearing to explore and watch him ride his scooter. In the distance, I could hear the cheers and chants and clapping from the various games being played.

I don’t remember the exact times the games started, but I remember many of them didn’t end until well into dusk- at least that was the case with some of the games that my girls played in. I remember one night in particular. All of the fields were full, like usual. Rachael’s team was playing in the field closest to the main road. I stood on the grass between the main driveway and the field, watching as the game went on.

One by one the other games wrapped up, and after the distant crescendo of cheers dissolved into murmurs, a gradual succession of minivans and cars emptied out of the lots and paraded down the dirt covered driveway behind me. The setting sun was now hidden by the surrounding forest and an unnatural quiet fell over the other empty fields.

As twilight melted into dusk, the game stretched on and on and I checked my watch over and over again, straining more each time to see the face of the watch through the increasing darkness.

Finally, the game ended. Whether somebody won or it was called due to darkness, I don’t remember. All that mattered was that it ended. I loaded the kids and the scooter into the van and we headed home. It felt like we were the last ones to leave a party.

Not all game nights were like this, but many were pretty close.

By the time we got back home, there would be just enough time for the kids to wash up and get into bed or, God Forbid, finish any remaining homework they might have.

That left enough time for me to wash up, grab a quick bite (if the hot dogs weren’t available), and climb into bed, too.

I was thinking about this as I sat on the couch the other night- all brought on by the quiet and the warmth of the long awaited summer air. Here it was, about 7:30. I had already taken my shower and I was sitting there on the couch in my pajamas, basically waiting for a respectable time to head up to do to bed. And it got me thinking about those times, and I thought about how, if this were back then, one of the girls would be warming up at the plate right about now, the teams would be chanting, and Jake would be flying around the fields on his scooter.

And I thought about all of this as I sat there on the couch- and I listened to nothing but the silence.

Today's Brief Comment

I'm not sure why, but the phrase, "a teachable moment" is really starting to bug me.