Post Script to Yesterday

 

I think he's ready now.

To Cry or To Laugh?

Which shall it be? I guess it depends on what I want out of life this day. Let's see--it is gorgeous here--only a day that a loving God could give us. Flowers are bold and bright......

Fountains are bubbling and the perfect setting for birds to take their baths....

After they feast.....

The harmony of the bird talk and song, awesome and peaceful. What a creation! That is the smile and the laughter.

Then--I must leave this spot of heaven to go buy clothes Casey neglected to mention he needed for the Junior Model United Nations Conference. How could he not have heard that he needed: dress pants, shirt, tie and SHOES--the caps compliment of the teacher when she e-mailed to tell me that he was not dressed appropriately today. His church casual clothes, which by the way look very nice, will not do--tomorrow he must dress properly. I do understand why this is important and I do intend to strangle him when he gets home today; however, what an expense for a one time wear. I guess he will gussy up for promotion next week and the award ceremony he has prior to that..neither of which require such formality.

I wonder where he parks his brain much of the time. I keep looking but can't find it. I keep thinking that the day will come when he packs it with him in the morning along with the backpack slung over the shoulder--often with homework forgotten on his desk. For goodness sake, he starts high school in 3 short months.

I pray that the God who makes the beauty will mature my child quickly and that all will be well. But then, I am remembering this post from 4 years ago Does a 9-Year -Old-Think and I shutter to think it may never happen.

But, today I choose to laugh....

Be Sure Your.....

sins will find you out---or, mom is not all that clueless.

Teenagers, I think all of them, sincerely believe that mom and dad are inherently clueless, permanently equipped with blinders and mentally impaired by old age--regardless if those parents are 30 or 70. The corollary to this is that these teenagers, with the wisdom of their advanced years, believe they are smarter, more clever and totally immune from discovery. Have we not all been there?

The inescapable lesson is that ultimately all things come to light--later if not sooner. Sometimes the truth emerges long after the event has been relegated to forgotten status. When it does burst into the light, either the time of consequence has run its course or delayed justice will triumph. Oh, yes, teeners have so many lessons to learn before becoming the men and women they will grow into (oh yes sorry Winston...the men and women into which they will grow.)

Such a moment hit home the other night when, for some reason unknown, I needed my iPhone which should have been nested in its own little pocket in my purse. But...it wasn't there. Now if you have an iPhone or iPad, you know there is this handy convenience Apple has created called "Find my iPhone." By going to your account on the computer and running this program, the location of your phone or iPad shows right up on a map--where ever it is. I was concerned that I had left it at Sammy's Woodfire Pizzza where we had gone for dinner--pretending it was Italian fare.

However--a big however--the map showed that the phone was right at my very own address--somewhere. And, brilliantly, along with the locating feature of Find My iPhone, comes the convenience of allowing a push of a button to activate a two minute beep, giving time to locate the wandering device. Two minutes was really much longer than needed as it clearly was coming from child's bedroom.

Imagine his shock since it was now 11 o'clock and he was asleep (maybe) when suddenly loud beeps begin emanating from under his covers. This then continued the series of events that now has him on total restriction for the month of October, except for church activities---yeah, no halloween.

By now I am in his room as he dramatically wakes up, wonders what that noise is (it is quite different from a phone ring) and then wonders  how in the world the phone was in his room.

He just doesn't know where it is.

Oh, wait--maybe it is in his pant's pocket in his closet. Sure that must be it as he climbs out of bed, strangely holding the side of his pj's as he limps to the closet.

Now, as I am the proverbial "wasn't born yesterday mother," I figure his strangely placed hand and limp mean something but I was certainly not going to strip search a 13 year old... so called for Ken. Then--in a terrible stroke of bad luck, by the time Father got there, the phone slipped its way out of the pj's onto my feet. Oh my, oh my! Goose is totally cooked--as if it hadn't been from the beginning. Sometimes it is hard to keep that straight face and not begin the giggles.

As we have been having a series of  "you do not take the nintendo, the MP3 player, the DVD player, the computer and certainly not my iPad to bed with you discussions, this was the final moment and the boom needed to fall harder. So--for the month of October, no devices, games are off the computer (yes, I did that to his computer), no friends over and no yesses to evites define his life. He keeps his karate lessons, his Italian lessons, his serve the community day and his church activities (even the fun ones). Plus I have let him know that this is the month where he learns what "hit the books" really means.

With this great life learning moment, I am confident, with total certainty, that he will never see his parents as clueless again--at least whenever he knows that Apple has my back.

Someone said.....

..if life gives you lemons, make lemonade (or something like that.) Traveling offers many life experiences and this year Casey has learned to make lemonade. Hopefully it is a lesson which will hold him in good stead throughout life.

If you have followed us for a few years, you know of the extraordinary relationship Casey has had with Camilla beginning when we lived at her family's farmhouse in 2006-2007. These two children were soulmates who bonded in a deep and meaningful way. They said they were more than friends, more than brother and sister, not "girlfriend/boyfriend." If you have read Casey's or my blogs over the years, you know.






It was with trepidation and curiousity that we returned to Italy this year after a two year absence. Now that they were older, what would the relationship be? Casey had become a teen-ager; Camilla not there yet but almost. How would their friendship reform itself?

The first day, after an initial awkwardness, it seemed as if all was well and, as usual, they had picked up where they had left off. But..somehow, by the second day, things were not good. Camilla pulled away and, inexplicatedly, rejected any interaction with Casey. Our boy was totally confused, devastated and profoundly hurt. We, he and her parents have no understanding of why or what. It was bizarrely strange. For several days, Casey would wake up with his usual optimism believing that things would be different. But, as days progressed, even he recognized that was not to be.

So, time for lemonade making...time to refocus and find new pleasures which were readily available. He just had to look and move on.

At Viticcio where we lived and were staying there was a family from Belgium who had been there several times when we were there. They had two girls whom Casey had now known for 5 years. So, it was easy to have fun with them, swimming, walking into the village, playing games, etc. Ken and I were happy to hear Casey laughing and happy. He still would wonder what had happened with his old friend but he was able to move out of his initial despondency.

Then we went to Cortona where he had a wonderful time with Matteo, the son of a friend of mine in that lovely, haunting hill town. He wrote all about it on his blog.Matteo and Me. Ken and I were so pleased to see some of the hurt dissipate as he had such a fun time with Matteo and his friends. He had no time to spare for thoughts of a little girl several villages away.




When we returned to Viticcio, it was time to have the birthday party we had planned to have when his very good friend Tomasso came home from camp. So, with Tomasso and the friends from Belgium who were still there we had quite a celebration. The absence of Camilla, who was in Cannes at a ballet school, was hardly felt.



The rest of the week Tommy and Casey were together constantly--either Tommy was with us and staying the night or Casey was at Tommy's. They went to the late showing of the Harry Potter movie (in Italian, of course), wandered around Greve connecting with other friends, just did what boys do together. No girls necessary.

We ended up leaving Viticcio a week early as Tommy was leaving and so there wasn't much reason to hang around being sad. We had already arranged to go to friend Rebecca's agriturismo Brigolante outside of Assisi for three nights and then were fortunate enough to be able to extend that for a whole week. So we waved goodbye to our friends Alessandro and Nicoletta and moved on.

At Brigolante, Casey had fun again with Rebecca's boys who are quite a bit younger than Casey but boys seem to be able to adjust to age--that plus the little house in the woods, the ATV, the open hills and the farm were enough for Casey to love the week there. Casey and Brigolante.

So, although we had expected a twist to the story of Casey and Camilla this year, we could never have anticipated the curve it took. I don't know if time will reverse this year--if it was just a blip in this fairy tale story of young children. It is very mysterious and strange.

Casey feels a loss of some magnitude. He is puzzled. I encourage him to feel the loss so that he doesn't react by hardening against hurt. Since ways of response can be formed so early in life, children need guidance as to how to handle disappointments. I tell him to remember the years of fun the two of them had as they can't be taken away. And we all hope that next time we return, the unique and special friendship will reestablish.

And this year the lemonade turned out pretty sweet after all.



Tommy and Casey


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My Prayer

Prayer is vital to my life. I believe that it is heard and answered--whether or not to my liking. Often I tell God what I want and how he can accomplish this desire, need, want, whatever. Foolish? Yep! But, oh so human.

So, along with my regular prayers for friends' health, safe travels, the work of missionaries, children's wayward ways, solace and comfort for peoples' sorrows, my spiritual growth, and more, I have added another urgency for the time being.

Please, Lord, help Casey mature between now and the start of school in September. Please?!

Prepare him to do his homework (all of it) out of personal motivation rather than parental oversight and prodding. Teach him to be joyful in geometry, Spanish, English, California history, science--not just in gym class.  Let him please his teachers--even those who are difficult to please..and, heaven knows that there are these.

Help him to understand that yes, he is only 13 and in the 8th grade but....what he does now counts and helps to determine his future. How he performs in these classes dictates where he will be placed in high school. Give him that unnatural ability to see the future in terms of his achievement, effort and depth of focus and desire.

He still wants to build with his legos, explore the creek below the park, play challenging games on his DS, improve in karate--in short, do all those things 13 year olds should do with their time. But...today's kids are being robbed of their childhoods by adults who forget their own childhoods. They are taking classes where teachers advise parents at the start of the year that it will be to the students' advantage to hire a tutor that year.Why? Because in the past, this 7th grade class, was not taught until high school.

The freedom to be Tom or Huck is long gone, but the heart of the boy that lived in them still beats in the boy of 2011. So, although my prayer is that Casey will grapple with and grow in self-motivation in his school work and accomplishments, we will see that he still has time for the boy things.

So, that is my prayer right now--a growing maturity that still allows for the joys and fun of being a kid. I believe that my God wants that, too, and will hear my prayer with a smile and a "yes."

For the record, he did achieve this year. And..we are proud of him.

Self Talk--How Useful Is It?

I haven't spent much time in life talking to myself. Such moments have pretty much been confined to self-recrimination when I've done something monumentally idiotic or when someone else has--like the driver in front of me. Of course, then, I am talking to him but he doesn't hear me. How could he with the mobile stuck to his ear?

Lately, though, I find myself in one way conversations much of the time. Not that I realize it right away. In fact, it may be hours before I make the discovery. It's the 12 year old in the house syndrome which I am becoming reacquainted with after a 28 year hiatus. How could I have so completely forgotten those days? Willingly, I think.

These dialogues go something like this....Casey, you need to pick up all that stuff from the floor....Yes, you can do it while you watch TV but make sure you get it done. (My mistake, I know.) Not until bedtime when I go back to that part of the house, do I discover that the only thing he heard was...you can watch TV.

Did I imagine the earlier conversation? Well, in a way, yes....it wasn't a conversation, was it?


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To My Boy

He is growing up and so it is time to write and tell him what he means to me and my hopes for him. Someday, decades from now, if the internet is around and if blogs from 2011 are retrievable, I would like him to read this and remember and perhaps show his kids and maybe grandkids what we were.

Casey, child, you are special--there is a reason that all who meet you feel it. There is an elusive something that emanates from you, calling attention to a life that has purpose and meaning beyond self. I often wonder what that will be and if I will see it in my lifetime. I would like that.

Your smile charms one and all. Your sharing of hugs, kisses and hand-holding as you approach teen age years opens a window into the man who will love and treasure the woman he chooses as a life mate. Never lose this guilelessness of freely sharing self with those you love. Pass it on to your children and grandchildren--of whom I hope there are many.

God gave you a great mind--curious, creative, insightful. Don't waste this on triviality. Find meaning in what you do; don't settle for a paycheck or place your values on what wealth brings. God has a reason and purpose for you. Listen and learn what that is. It may be directly serving him or it may be in the marketplace or realms of science or in areas of which we have not yet dreamed. Whatever it is, give it your all and find satisfaction in fulfilling your destiny.

From the time you were little, I have told you about the great gift God gave us when he tied that blue bow, asking us to love, cherish and nurture the little boy. Many times I have thanked Him for the honor he gave us and the challenge he provided for the years we had thought would have a different direction. And..what a challenge it is sometimes to corral the energy, stubbornness, self-will that defines you. There are times I ask why he didn't give us a malleable, quiet, easy boy or why he chose us. The answer, of course, is that the whole package is important to the plan he has for you. We are the human partners needed to do his work. And...of course...he knew we would love you beyond reason.

When you were in kindergarten and again in second grade, you noticed little boys who were shy and hesitant to join the group; you reached out and made friends with each of these boys. We watched as each grew in confidence and self-understanding of personal value and acceptance. I pray that this childhood trait dwells in you and that you will always see the needy person and respond with humble compassion.

Prayer has been an important part of your years. I remember the second grade Sunday school teacher who told us that you were "a real prayer warrior." What a thrill that was to hear of in our boy, so young.  For many years, every day before your leaving for school, we have prayed together, asking that He lead you and guide you that day. We know that he has heard as you have leaped some difficult hurdles along the way. I pray that you always pray.

For a child so young, you have traveled to far away places--Europe, Africa, South America and, of course, many of the states. Soon you will experience Egypt and Jordan--places you have wanted to go. I am certain that this is by God's design. He has powerful reasons for building within you an awareness and appreciation of cultures so different from yours. My prayer is that you will discover these reasons and follow their paths--that you will go where God leads you in life.

Now you are in middle school--the years that I believe are crucial growing up years. Wending your way through these years is fraught with the danger and temptations to make bad decisions. These are the years before you have an identity, before you have dealt with who you are, before you truly believe that you have a future. You live in the now--almost completely. The nebulous concept of future escapes the 12 year old mind. Truthfully, it puzzles me why God makes such vulnerable years so difficult, but he does. My hope lies in the truths you have been raised by and in your own developing faith in God's son.

I believe in you, Casey, and anticipate the coming years, watching as you mature and find your way and the identity that is not yet yours. Your "you" will be built on who you are now, your decisions in the coming years, the friends you make and your continuing growth in developing and understanding your faith.

I am so proud of you now and that pride will continue for all the years we have. After that.....I am convinced that God provides windows to see those that we love the most and that we can continue to cheer them on toward great and meaningful endeavors that not only enrich themselves but those they meet and minister to. I will follow you all of your years.

Love, Gramma-mom

Teachers Make a Difference

I've been in a writing slump. Happens sometimes.  Not sure if it's because life suddenly becomes boring or because I miss the interesting stuff that surely happens all around me each day. Common sense tells me there are thousands of things to light a thought which in turn can trigger a muse. So...I think that I've just allowed a spell of lethargy to take over. Va bene (ok)...we need vacuums sometimes to give overworked brains a rest.

Now, I do want to share what I have been focused on this week. It is not a new thought nor earth shattering or unique to me. At the same time, it is not one that everyone shares. I hope to set that straight right now.

Mrs. Henetz 4th Grade

Teachers are important and they do make a difference in lives which means, ultimately, in changing the world. And...I am convinced that the vast majority of these changes and contributions are  positive and good. Most teachers are good at what they do. I know this from the perspective of having been a recipient of the wisdom of teachers and from having been a teacher, an observer and evaluator of teachers and, most importantly, a parent, past and present.

This past week I had reason to reflect on the teachers Casey has had in the last 7 years and realize that out of those 21 dedicated people, only 2 have been duds. This translates into two teachers who not only did not motivate him but instead squelched his enthusiasm for learning, damaged his self-confidence and  negatively impacted his performance.

His second grade teacher was such a one--for some reason she insisted that this very bright boy was "slow."  Fortunately, we were able to compensate for her by what we did at home. I have often wondered, though, what happens to children in the clutches of someone like she but who do not have compensating home environments. We lose kids this way--sometimes very early in their young lives.

Mrs. Hanna-Kinder

Then there are the ones who fall into the ranks of the truly gifted teacher--the one who magically reaches all the students, motivating performance high above the expectation. As I review Casey's school years, I am so pleased to realize that he has had at least 6 teachers who fall into this category--and there are two more candidates in his current 7th grade schedule. He has been fortunate.

Mrs. Kang-2nd Grade

One of this year's crop is his advanced algebra teacher (yes, in 7th grade--when did we/you take it?)  Last year the other of his two poor teachers was his advanced pre-algebra teacher who managed to demoralize Casey, he who at one time scored 600 out of 600 on the state math test, into doing so poorly that he was not recommended for the sequential 7th grade class--advanced algebra.

I lobbied with the vice-principal and counselor to put him into the class anyway, convincing them he deserved the chance. They struck a deal with him that if he did not have at least a B by the end of the first 6 weeks, he would need to repeat pre-algebra.

Mrs. Johnson-5th Grade

And this is where the new candidate for exceptional teacher comes into play. His algebra teacher has him turned on, excited and confident. He is currently carrying a 103.9% average for his work. She is the antithesis of his 6th grade teacher.

Yes, a teacher can make a great difference. We expect kids to have good attitudes but forget that often they will simply reflect the attitude of the adult at the front of the room.

Maestra Anna Maria and Agatha 3rd Grade Italy

And...I believe that he may well have two more such teachers in his life this year. If so, he is a very lucky boy.

The pictures on this post are of those teachers who have made a positive difference in Casey's life. I say thank you to each of you and know that your legacy lives in him.

Nary a Prophtess in Sight

When you are my age--not quite ancient--you have had a variety of previous lives. Some quite forgettable, some equally memorable but most just the stuff of which our years are made. Somehow during that time we progress from infant, to child, to adolescent, to young adult, to mid-life and beyond.

In one of my lives I was an educator and, I like to think, a good one. I began in junior high school (this was before the transition to middle schools) where I taught English and for a brief period, social studies. Classes were strictly divided by ability--high, medium and low; although in an effort to fool the kids and parents, they were called x, y, z. Interestingly, these levels usually differed in color.

Classes ran about 40 or so; desks were in straight lines from front to back; the worse rule infraction was an occasional gum chewer; seldom was a student "sent" to the office; parents arrived in droves for open house and much learning was rote. Yes, this was a long, long time ago, for sure.

I arrived on the cusp of change and so soon my classes sat in semi-circles;  students were allowed to dialogue which introduced noise; rote, except for spelling, gave way to inquiry and debate; personal interpretation of what the author may have meant overshadowed multiple-choice. We began to teach our kids to think independently, creatively. They even were allowed to do the unthinkable--question the teacher.

One of the areas with which I met success was helping students learn how to write--well. This was before the days of "random" writing where kids learned to write in the absence of learning structure, sentence variation, grammar or anything else that might restrict creativity. In my mind, these were the lost years of instruction as witnessed today by the number of "grown-ups" who have difficulty creating the written word. Bizarrely, at this career point, I was an administrator and so was tasked with making certain that teachers taught this free-thought writing approach.

It is totally possible and a reasonable expectation that students write well structurally and still be creative and mesmerizing--a la the great writers. Fortunately, the pendulum has swung some and teachers now focus on creativity and style. Unfortunately, many of these teachers are a product of the "lost years" and so are having to do some catch up themselves. This is not a huge problem as all that I knew about writing and the teaching of writing I learned as I taught.

Anyway, all of the above is lead-in to my current failure.... Casey. He has  no interest in my stored wisdom as he writes for his English class. He clearly labors under the thought that I can't possibly understand what he and his teacher know. Having thrown at him the totally logical thought that we pay for his Italian and algebra tutors, but that he has a free English tutor, you would think he would be thankful. No! He turns his back.

In a way it is simpler; I can just turn him over to Mr. Silvestri and not worry --forget that my very insightful input might help his grade--no matter. Yes, life gets easier sometimes if you just let go.

It has been said: "I tell you the truth, no prophet is accepted in his hometown."
Luke 24:4

The hometown is right here.

Heri ya Siku kuu!

This was a big birthday year for Casey--his last before becoming a teenager; although, it often seems as if he is already there. I know that he and his friends are much more aware of life around them and incredibly more things claim their interests and passions than when I was 12 going on 18. The thing is I think that in many ways they may be less mature. As much as we try to minimize it and direct focus in many different directions, the "me" of life appears to be much more omnipresent.

Casey was almost a 4th of July baby but fortunately not. He has his own day and doesn't need to share it with the other newborn--the USA. Besides, the 4th is not my favorite holiday--too noisy, too hot, too exhausting. This may explain why he has celebrated his years in a variety of locations over the years--Ecuador, France, Italy-3 times, Hawaii and now Kenya. Next year it will be Italy again--but then that is like being home.

What a special place to have a birthday--Kenya--where you are surrounded by nature, God's creation--unpolluted, natural, and a feeling of oneness with that creation. Science says that life began in Africa so it is as if being at the beginning of time.

Casey's birthday had several memorable events:

• Stopping at the equator line on the way to the airstrip. When we stopped, a Kenyan man demonstrated the opposite water movement on either side of the line. This was particularly interesting to Casey as he remembered being at the equator line in Ecuador.

Ecuador 2004-Birthday 6

Kenya 2010-Birthday 12

•  Flying low over the savanna with elephants, lions, giraffes, zebra below. It was a thrill to climb on-board the little plane, strap in, peer out the window and then land no-where. What a neat birthday experience!

This is so cool!

• Having a herd of hippos as a welcoming committee. Once we reached camp, slushing around in the mud and making weird noises were the short of adorable hippopotamuses. Fun!

• Finally, at the end of the day, Casey had his celebration. As we sat at our table in front of the fire pit, we heard a rhythm, a beat and a song and then, weaving in, came men and women of the staff, carrying the obligatory birthday cake. Something magical was in the air.

Aunt Mindy really surprised him.

Heri ya Siku kuu! Casey Boy

So it was a good day. I think he will remember 12. Wouldn't you?

Next: Lake Nakuru--flamingos and baboons. You'll love them.

Brothers

Casey and brothers on Easter

CASEY

.

JORDAN

JUSTIN

They are a handful!

QUESTIONS IN LOOKS

Thanks to Casey today was an exciting day; by special invitation I attended the sixth grade Honor Roll Assembly! Son Casey was one of  many ambitious students recognized for having earned excellent grades for the first semester of the first year in middle school. I am a proud mom. He is definitely off to a very good start in the challenge of preparing for college and adulthood.

Saying this seems so strange, as when I was his age and in sixth grade, we certainly were not thinking of college acceptance and competitive pressures. Life was much easier a hundred years ago--wasn't it?

I also realize that I have neglected to write about the rather consequential, life changing event that took place  in our lives a few weeks ago. Casey  became his uncle! Strange events do happen, don't they? After having been guardians of Casey for many years, we finally were able to adopt him and become his recognized parents. This is something he had asked for and we wanted but until a recent California Supreme Court ruling impacting our situation, it wasn't in the cards. Now we are a family unit, confident in the future ahead of us.

Which leads to today's look in question--one that I must and will get used to without feeling an explanation is required. Admittedly, I look a little older than the other mothers--even if women are waiting until later in life to have children and even if I did have my makeup on. I'm much later. And so the woman sitting next to me, with whom I had struck up a casual conversation as we waited for the children, asked if I had a child being honored. I said "yes, my son." As I said this, her face spontaneously registered a look of confusion and surprise as she tried to reconcile conflicting input. My first reaction was to explain to this stranger that he had been my grandson, was still my grandson, but was also my son. Then, I caught myself and realized that sorting it out for her was not necessary. This was a crossroads moment for me and from now on quizzical looks won't matter.

I learned this lesson many years ago in a different context and in a different time when we adopted two African-American children. As is apparent in our pictures, Ken and I are not African-American but quite European-Caucasian. When we went out, people looked or even, one might say, gawked at us. We were an anomaly-often one that was not liked. Although, to be fair, sometimes the looks were purely ones of surprise rather than judgment.  Even today I am sure these looks continue for mixed-race families; in the late sixties/early seventies, they were a given. It was not unknown to have the "looks" accompanied by comments and loud whispers.

Eventually these experiences became so mundane and so a part of our lives that we neglected to notice them. It was only when I would think about it and check to see if they were still happening that I knew they were. By then, it was not our problem but the looker's. Even today if I am out with an adult child and am called "mom," necks swivel but I think as often now in surprise as in condemnation. Times have changed--a little.

So, I am relearning the lesson I learned so many years ago--let people handle their own curiosities. It is not my responsibility or need to speak to them. Isn't it strange how life moves in circles and what we learn at one point prepares us for new times and experiences? I love it and I love my new son--very much. Casey Alex, you are special!

And...Time Marches On

Casey became an "always with us" part of our lives six years ago. Here he is at lunch in Arezzo in June, 2003. What a great trip it was as we spent 6 weeks in Spain and Italy. Unfortunately, things being as they are with kids, Ken and I have all the memories of a little boy's wonder and fun. He remembers very little. Sometimes I bring out the old picture albums or bring photos up on the screen so that he can dig deep. He does remember lovely Sofia whom he has seen almost every summer since.

A year later, 2004,  he was slashing his way through the Amazon Rain Forests of Ecuador where he also shared the Amazon River with deadly piranhas. Of course, being Casey, he managed an Ecuadorean girlfriend while exploring the Galapagos islands.

Then came 2005 and Alaska. Another big adventure  ..this time with bears, whales, salmon and eagles...flying and soaring in and out of mountain glaciers...seeing the big brown bear snagging his dinner from the cold waters. And...another girl.


Finally came August 2006--the year he became an Italian. The year he and Camilla began their unique bonding and friendship that started the only way it could--the language of balloons. By the end of that year, August 2007, the parting was painful and difficult.

These two children virtually lived together for that year. They knew each others secrets and ways. As they said, they were closer than brother and sister, girl friend and boy friend. It was and is a friendship that defies description.

All of this is prelude to why I write now. It seems that  becoming a middle schooler has caused a metamorphosis. Casey is no longer the child he was. He is providing clues as to the teenager, young adult and man that he will become. He has entered the twilight zone currently known as the "tweener years."

And..it all seems to have come to noticeable fruition in the last two weeks. A stunning transformation is taking place--clearly out of my control--as much as want to say "halt"--stay a little boy a while longer.

Thy symptoms are: girls are calling--multiple times during the day; name brand clothes are suddenly known to exist--Target just doesn't cut it any longer; "skinny" jeans are "de rigueur;" walking around with earbuds leading to the MP3 player hidden in the pocket is cool and there is a great necessity (unfulfilled) for a personal cell phone, preferrably an IPhone.  I am beginning to sense that soon we will be on the periphery of his life--called upon when needed but the focus being outside of us. I know this will be normal but I don't like it--at all.

For now, though, he still walks holding hands, seeks reassuring hugs, laughs with me and jumps into bed in the morning.  He's tall enough that sometimes his arm finds my shoulder. And as I write this, he comes in asking for a "huggie" before going up to prepare for bed. Maybe the boy will always be there to come forth at unexpected moments.

The Next Top Chef

Check this out Sausage Lemon Penne. Once again Casey has came through with an original recipe. I was tired the other night and really didn't want to think about what to have for dinner so Casey volunteered to make a new pasta. Not wanting to dampen his enthusiasm and creativity, it seemed like a good idea to let him to it--after all, there is always cereal to eat if dinner just doesn't work.

Personally, I thought it was going to be too dry once he threw out the idea of canned tomatoes or broth of any kind but, it turned out really quite tasty. As you will note, he's a natural cook in that there are no such things as measures or quantities--just what seems right to the chef. Unfortunately, we didn't think to take pictures.

If you try it, be sure to leave a comment on his blog letting him know what you thought.

Traz Sighting

The first night you would have seen Traz sleeping outside child's door--he was too scary.

By last night, this is what you would have seen.



Check out the toes.

I am eternally grateful for my Slow Travel friends who encouraged me to embrace Traz rather than admonish child for his non-money sense. Thank you my friends.

Ya Gotta Love Him

Eleven year olds are such a trip! I had four of them years ago but because there were four I missed a lot of what each of them was all about. I wonder how much I overlooked and what joys were lost. There's much to be said about a house with an only child.

Casey had his Washington D.C. experience last week. It was a week with many unique opportunities; a time to experience the camaraderie that develops so quickly in communities that live together for short times--we used to call them "mountain top" experiences; a chance to test maturity; a moment in time that will remain over the years.

He will be writing about it on his blog once he catches up on school work, takes a few tests, reads a book and all those things that school kids must do. Maybe he'll find an hour or so next weekend. So I'll let him tell you about dinner dances, embassy dinners, Supreme Court deliberations, bus accidents and all that stuff.

I think I'll share about an eleven year old rising to challenges, handling a week away from home and a little about the learning curve for gramma.

Before Casey left, we put extensive thought into how to prepare him for the week, what he would need, how he could access money, how to address homesickness and a myriad of other types of adult obsessive thinking. In the future, I must remember that such compulsive behavior fails to account for the natural proclivities of the child mind.

Here's the run down of our failures of guidance and Casey's total boyishness.

• No bath for 6 days
• Brushed teeth twice (and he wears braces.)
• Returned with a suitcase half full of clean clothes (he did change underwear.)
• Used his ATM card for unique souvenirs such as a $75 snow lion from the National Natural Museum and two plastic trash picker uppers. The second treasure's purpose has nothing to do with a commitment to ecology. It seems they will make perfect robot arms when he decides to be a robot.
  

Meet Tras

Where is the copy of the Declaration of Independence? The feathered ink quills and parchment paper sold in bulk at Williamsburg? Horseshoes fashioned by the blacksmith? Candles? Anything that speaks of the experience? At this point, they have still to be found.

We had worried about Casey becoming homesick--well, to be truthful, he worried a lot about that, too. The morning he left, he didn't want to go. We gave him Ken's mobile so that he could call and keep in touch. And, he did call when the plane landed in D.C.--more for the thrill of using the phone than checking in. But, it was much more fun to take pictures with the phone than the camera.

After that, he called when the bus was hit by a car and when he took possession of Tras. As we sat at home, wondering what he was doing, how he was, missing him, his time was full of friendships, sharing a hotel room with other boys, adventure, learning and excitement.

Finally, he forgot the binder the program gave him which had his daily agendas, his notes, programs, etc--the things that we adults think are so important for future memories. I called the hotel and program and it may still be found. I hope so.

We need the binder to really find out about his week. It is coming out in bits and pieces--like today he remembered to tell us that he was chosen to demonstrate the routine of the guards at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldiers. After that the kids called him "soldier boy."

So..what did I learn?

• Kids can take care of themselves and survive without all of the adult rules and concerns.
• Not to put so much money in his account-if it's there, it's meant to be spent.
  
• Not to worry about quantity of clothes.
• Let Casey use "poor judgement" and listen to the whispers that call from store shelves--friends helped me to understand this. Traz will be a long-term companion.
  
• Listen to the memories as they come and be thankful he has them.

Today he returned to school , wearing his People to People official clothes--shirt with logo, khaki pants, vest and lanyard. He is proud and ready to go again. What better ending is there?

The Day After Labor Day

In much of California, school has always started the day after Labor Day and for most of my life this was the day I looked forward to with dread and anticipation. I missed the campus and the kids. The new year always blossomed so brightly, held so much potential--whether my vantage point was as a student, a teacher or an administrator.

But...I always hated getting up before the sun rose--primarily because this meant that I should go to bed earlier than I liked. Thus, out of sheer stubborness, I set 11 pm as bed time no matter how much sleep beckoned. It was a matter of determination--I was going to win, at all costs.

And so, when I was old enough to justify retirement, there were two factors which called me. One was I could sleep as late as I wanted in the mornings and two was that we could travel at will to anyplace, anywhere, at any time. There was such a sense of freedom as I envisioned finally calling my own shots in life.

...then, life does have a way of interfering with dreams. Our case is a fortunate one as while we lost those dreams we gained something special in return. Can't say that some of those "before" dreams do not still beckon and sound mighty good but their loss doesn't hurt or cause unhappiness. Life is good! I wouldn't trade the dream for the reality.

None of this is to say that I enjoyed the ear-splitting, less-than-harmonious jangle at my ear at 6:15 this morning. Time to get child up for school, make sure he had a good breakfast and an edible lunch, make time for morning prayer and devotion, double check the backpack for all that he would need for success (making sure Pokemon was not going to school with him) and..give plenty assurance that starting middle school was not to be feared but rather anticipated with great expectations--all followed by double doses of tight hugs.

Now that he is safely ensconced in school until 2:15, the reward for the 6:15 wake-up call is that Ken and I have almost 7 hours of freedom to do as we wish--come and go--not have our day regulated by child and his friends. This may not be the same as freedom to get up and go around the world at will, but for us, it surely is the next best thing or maybe the first best.

It is the day after Labor Day and school has once again started and once more takes charge of our lives--so we roll with this and look forward to the bird songs in the morning.

Quick--An 11 Year Old on Loan

Today was one of those days-- if you would like an eleven year old for a few days, I have a loaner, postage paid. He's charming, handsome, funny and smart--well, not always..........

I was so enjoying the laughter and play coming from the pool this afternoon as he and his friend made the most out of the last days of summer. It was so "all boy"--the stuff of storybooks until...

Ken asked "What's all over the floor?" I didn't know.

I looked and there on my new marble tile floor was this big brown oozing puddle seeping out of the freezer. Coke!? Yes, I remembered the boys had poured their coke at lunch from a two litter bottle.

Opening the refrigerator door, there was the bottle, lying on its side with a trail of coke running down the shelves, into the bins, over the edge, seeping down into the freezer. Upon opening the freezer, the coke exactly resembled ice cycles hanging from a roof in upper New York in winter.

We started cleaning and the more we cleaned the more coke leaked from cracks and crevices normally unseen. It just wouldn't stop. Frozen coke covered food, shelves, sides, all surfaces of the freezer. I have no doubt that months from now we will find frozen coke in the peas, pancetta and whatever else is hidden in there.

The refrigerator bins which of course are full of vegetables, fruit, cheese, meats were awash.

And the floor...........under the refrigerator, along the caulking, the drips kept coming. Tonight the ants will probably find the floor under the refrigerator and invite their armies to march.

Of course, the entire time we were dealing with this, the refrigerator doors stood open in an 86 degree kitchen and the boys continued their water play and fun, oblivious to the result of not putting a cap on tightly.

I will not share what I was thinking during this except to say that the thought of loaning him out for a while was very appealing. It's waning a little bit but a smidge of the thought remains. So....you may want to check it out before the offer closes. He is a charmer.......

The More Things Change......

the more they stay the same.

Three years ago--minus 6 days--we began the adventure of calling Fattoria Viticcio in Greve-in-Chianti our home for a year. It was a quite glorious and wonderful year for all of us.

Casey met the challenge of attending the local elementary school and did well learning in a very different language. He loved the freedom of roaming and exploring the vineyards and hills; he loved playing in the piazza with friends as we finished our after dinner caffé; he loved Italy and began to think of himself as Italian. Above all, he formed an unbreakable bond with Camilla, the daughter of our landlord. These two children built memories usually found in story books--memories of idle summer days where there are no cares and the freedom just to be.

So, each year we return to the vineyard on the hill in lovely Tuscany. And each year I wonder what will happen when these two get together again--will there be an awkwardness stemming from new maturities or will they seamlessly begin where they left off the year before. And each year they prove that for them time collapses and yesterday was just the day before. It is a joy to watch such innocent friendship.




As far as Ken and I, we are doing what we do well--mostly not much. Yesterday mirrored so many of the days we had here--the days we treasure and enjoyed so much. We wandered roads with a destination in mind but soon forgotten when a different road beckoned to us. We found ourselves in Castelnovo Berendenga, which took just a short time to stroll through--not very much there to see or do. But, stopping in the tourist office, we found that San Felice vineyards and winery were quite close.

For many the highlight of visiting Tuscany is visiting wineries and tasting; however, for whatever reason, that just isn't us. But, liking San Felice wines and since it was time for lunch, we decided to go there, have lunch and then visit the enoteca and buy a couple bottles of wine. Which is just what we did.

The property is beautiful--an ancient borgo that has been transformed into a very elegant resort, and buying wines there is much less expensive than buying elsewhere. But, lunch was a major disappointment--costly and quite mediocre, unlike their wines. So, if you go, take time to explore the property, buy some wine and then eat elsewhere.

It is as beautiful as ever here--the views from each window have not changed, the skies are as blue and the clouds as white as always, the tree outside our door has donned its summer foliage and provides shade below, the sparrow nests are full and the rhythm of life continues as it was last year and the year before. It's nice to be here again.

Last night we went to dinner in the piazza--Alessandro, Nicoletta, Camilla and us. It was a good evening of conversation and laughter. As expected, the children finished before the adults and so left to roam the piazza while the "big" people finished up with caffe.

The day we arrived, Signora Franca, Alessandro's mother, made Casey's favorite dish--her lasagna and we ate outside by the pool. It was as if we were having a family reunion which, I guess, in some ways is just what it was. Gifts were exchanged with more rounds of hugs.

Now we have more days to laze and explore. Casey is going away to a camp in the mountains for 5 days with Camilla and Nicoletta and so Ken and I have an unexpected few days to do something by ourselves-kind of nice. After discarding Venice, Puglia and Rome, we decided to return to Piemonte. We have not had much time in that area of Italy and have always wanted to return. Fortunately, we were able to make reservations at a highly recommended Villa B and B--Villa Sampaguita. We are looking forward to leisurely drives, good food and visiting friends in Acqui Terme.

There is more planned--a spa day with friend Rita, lunch with friends in Umbria, a day in Florence with friends of ours and Casey's, meeting the parents of Casey's Italian tutor in San Diego, dinners with Valentina and Ricardo, Casey's tutor when we were here and other possibilities not yet confirmed. So...our few days here will be busy and full and August 15 is destined to come much too soon.

2 More Sleeps

In the common parlance of Slow Talk, a helpful site when planning trips to Europe and elsewhere, you mark off time to travel by counting the "sleeps"--nights before departure. We now have 2--tonight and tomorrow. Monday morning we are off and the daily grind is behind us for a few weeks. I have decided that part of my love for travel--besides the enrichment and cultural opportunities--is the total escapism it offers. Today this is less so than when we began our journeys--before the unavoidable prevalence of TV, the internet and mass travel, where new news is constant. But, it is still quite possible to lose oneself in anonymity and separate from home.

Anyway, we are ready. The suitcases are full and zipped--well, almost. We bring with us an odd assortment of things. Having lived in Italy for a year and having friends whom we know well, we bring gifts that are rather out of the ordinary. This year it is 10 lbs of pancake flour for Casey's friend Tommaso who asks for this each year. Then there are special kitchen sponge type things for Nicoletta because I know she likes them and can't get them in Italy. She will be surprised (unless she reads this) as she doesn't know that I know. Following these unique gift items are a couple strainers from Bed, Bath and Beyond for sink drains, kids things for Camilla, Sophia, Filippo and Tommy and other oddities for Alessandro, Signora Franca, Sara and Valentina.

So we end with one carry on with nothing but electronics and important papers. One carry on with clothes for each of us in the event of waylaid checked luggage. (I am pretty well convinced that our time is about due as we have had phonemonal luck with luggage over the years--even when we traveled with 9 huge duffles the year we moved.) And then my rather large carry on purse with a myriad of essentials.

We are checking 2 suitcases plus the duffel of gifts. This is not bad since there are 3 of us for 7 weeks. And, I know, that we have way more than we need. Do I really need 7 pairs of shoes? Of course! Fortunately, I buried them so Ken won't know until we get there.

When we return we will still have this assortment of valises as the replacement pieces for my dishes, which I had delivered to our home-away-from-home in Greve, will fill the emptied out spaces. This beats paying shipping costs to the US.

So we are off. Ten days in a limited area of Provence. Friends are picking us up in Nice. We'll have a couple days with them before heading off to Arles and surroundings. On the 9th we head to Italy with the first two nights in Bologna. There we will meet a friend from Hawaii for dinner. And... then our annual pilgrimage to our most favorite of favorite places, Sant' Antonio in Montepulciano before heading to the final 4 weeks in "our" apartment in Greve in Chianti.

This year we are facing the emerging adolescent in Casey as he is having mixed emotions about leaving for so long--or at all. This child who has been nurtured on travel and has a wanderer's spirit is turning out to be a normal kid. The consolation is that as soon as he hits foreign soil, especially that of his loved Italy, he will be just fine. He belongs to two worlds and each has a powerful hold on him. This is good.