I learned this morning that my dear friend Johnny Stef passed away last Thursday. John was my favorite person (by far) in my five person learning team at business school and my friendship with him was one of the best things I got out of going to business school. After scouring airline websites and thinking creatively about childcare
options, I am sad to say I don't think I will be able to make it to his
memorial service on Tuesday in New York city. But just because I can't be there doesn't mean I can't spend some time remembering my good buddy Stef.
John was one of the most decent and big-hearted human beings I have known. What I mean by decent is that he was someone who was more honest than most of us and didn't shy away from difficult conversations or doing the right thing even if it was uncomfortable or hard. He took good care of people and he went out of his way to help people, but in a quiet way that made it clear that he was doing it for them, not for himself. He was "hip" in the best sense of the word: always impeccably and boldly dressed, always knew what was going on and had a knowledgeable and thoughtful take on it. And he was quirky too: ask him what he is reading and he is as likely to say The Peloponnesian War as The New Yorker.
I have fond memories of spending time with John during business school. Beyond the many group projects our learning team worked on, we spent more than a few nights out in Philly with classmates and friends drinking and dancing until late (the song Magic Stick was a favorite, and I seem to remember more bhangra than one would expect from a white guy who grew up in New York). John and Suhana's wedding reception was also a highlight and I felt honored to be there to celebrate with them.
When I lived in DC I was often in New York and could meet John for brunch or fancy cheese with wine in the afternoon or even the occasional live music show in a basement in Brooklyn. He always had some funny story to share and a spot-on critique of a recent movie and I always felt more cultured and in the know after seeing him. My move to San Francisco meant I saw less of him, but we still managed to meet for coffee on one of his trips to SF and that was when he told me he was going to be a father. The last time I saw him in person was right after his son Henryk was born, back in July 2009. I had never seen him so happy. He had not thought he would be able to have children and he truly cherished Henryk.
I knew John had had a stint in the hospital with pneumonia a little less than a year ago but he didn't tell me until he was out and "fine." I guess I should have known there was more to the story but I believed him when he said he was OK. I was shocked this morning to see in my email a note from a mutual friend letting me know that Stef had passed away. I am so sad that he is gone and I feel even worse that I didn't get a chance to say goodbye. And, not to make this about me, but I am horrified with myself that I wasn't there for him during his final fight. I have spent the whole day doing little more than wishing I had known what was going on so I could have been as good a friend to Stef as he always was to me.
I missed my chance to say it in person, but here is what I would have said:
Yo Stef. I am so glad that I knew you and got to be a part of your life. I really admired who you were and how you lived your life and I felt lucky to be your friend. I always felt like you were looking out for me and taking care of me even in ways I wasn't aware of. Thank you for being such a good friend. I wish your son could have grown up knowing you. As a mother of a 2 year old myself I can hardly imagine how hard it must be for you to leave him. I hope that he will grow up surrounded by people who knew and loved you and who can share with him all of the wonderful memories so he will know how lucky he was to have you for a dad, even if just for a short time.
You will be greatly missed.
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Monday, May 14, 2012
It only took us six years to find out
On Saturday night Eric and I went out on a date. And because we are parents in our early 30s living in Florida, obviously that means just one thing: we went mini-golfing.
What we didn't know was that it was National Miniature Golf Day. A whole game of mini-golf was just 99 cents!
If you haven't heard of National Miniature Golf Day before that might be because it only started in 2007. It is always celebrated on the second Saturday of May, which I think means it might always be the day before Mother's Day.
Perhaps we have a new family tradition.
What we didn't know was that it was National Miniature Golf Day. A whole game of mini-golf was just 99 cents!
If you haven't heard of National Miniature Golf Day before that might be because it only started in 2007. It is always celebrated on the second Saturday of May, which I think means it might always be the day before Mother's Day.
Perhaps we have a new family tradition.
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Never hurts to ask
During nap times on our very successful camping trip, we drove around a bit so the boys could sleep. After many hours at the beach, we decided to get some ice cream at the camp store. Eric was driving so I ran in and ordered a cone with mint chocolate chip ice cream.
The woman started to scoop up the cone and determined that there wasn't enough ice cream left in the bucket to make a whole cone. (This was not really true. There was still at least a pint of ice cream in there, it was just all in the corners where her big scooper couldn't get.) So she pulled out the bucket and put it on the floor.
"You aren't going to let that ice cream go to waste, are you?" I asked.
"I'm just going to throw it away," she replied. "What, do you want it?"
Guess what I said.
The best part was the looks I got while sitting on the curb with the bucket waiting for Eric to circle around and pick me up.
The woman started to scoop up the cone and determined that there wasn't enough ice cream left in the bucket to make a whole cone. (This was not really true. There was still at least a pint of ice cream in there, it was just all in the corners where her big scooper couldn't get.) So she pulled out the bucket and put it on the floor.
"You aren't going to let that ice cream go to waste, are you?" I asked.
"I'm just going to throw it away," she replied. "What, do you want it?"
Guess what I said.
The best part was the looks I got while sitting on the curb with the bucket waiting for Eric to circle around and pick me up.
Saturday, May 5, 2012
Going camping
Once Commencement is over on Sunday, Eric will have completed his first year of teaching and we will be celebrating by going camping with our two small children. As I get us ready for this first-time-camping-in-Florida adventure, I started thinking about what might be different about camping in Florida compared to other places.
In San Francisco, living indoors is all about keeping out the wind (oh how I hate that cold cold wind!).
In Florida, shelter is first and foremost about separating people and all other living creatures: people in, everyone else out. The AC is nice too, but the critters send people indoors well before the heat does.
And I am not just talking about all the bugs - though there are a LOT of bugs. Maybe it is the alligators swimming around in my backyard, but Florida seems to me to have more than its share of deadly creatures, or at least creatures that can really hurt you. Or just really gross you out. Bad.
Our plan is to go for two nights and three days. We will be camping on a beach and are crossing our fingers there will be some shade for a nap during the hottest part of the day, or the tent might actually cook us.
In San Francisco, living indoors is all about keeping out the wind (oh how I hate that cold cold wind!).
In Florida, shelter is first and foremost about separating people and all other living creatures: people in, everyone else out. The AC is nice too, but the critters send people indoors well before the heat does.
And I am not just talking about all the bugs - though there are a LOT of bugs. Maybe it is the alligators swimming around in my backyard, but Florida seems to me to have more than its share of deadly creatures, or at least creatures that can really hurt you. Or just really gross you out. Bad.
Our plan is to go for two nights and three days. We will be camping on a beach and are crossing our fingers there will be some shade for a nap during the hottest part of the day, or the tent might actually cook us.
Monday, April 30, 2012
Banjo night
This is Banjo Night at the Elks' Club in Pittsburgh.
I was there. I took this picture:
What you can see in the picture:
What you can't see in the picture:
I was there. I took this picture:
- Lots of white people
- It was an uncommon mix of older folk, iron city hipsters and people who love banjos.
- A large American flag.
- This picture was taken in the Allegheny Room.
What you can't see in the picture:
- "DJ Divine," an octogenarian with a fabulous gravelly voice who sings with the banjo crew, apparently quite regularly. She sang two songs the night I was there, one of which was "All of Me" alternately known, she said, as "the fat girl's song."
- My brother and his girlfriend Brin knocking back a pitcher of Yuengling like someone is going to steal it.
- An old guy wearing a dark red silk bathrobe over his pajamas standing in the doorway. Is there housing at the Elks' club? I didn't think so but this makes me want to know for sure.
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Kindness of strangers
Every time I travel by myself with two children I am trusting that there will be a helping hand when I really need it. And so far, it always has been, even if sometimes it is the pilot himself helping me carry Emerson's carseat to our seats. (That was on Southwest. I didn't realize he was the pilot until after I had asked him for help. He was very nice about it.)
Of course, I do try to minimize the amount of help that I need, which is why when I arrived at the Pittsburgh airport for our flight home and discovered that the Ergo baby carrier, a central part of what makes flying alone with two children possible, was not in the car, I felt dismayed (read = total freak out curbside).
It turns out that the more help you need, the more help those kind strangers will provide. And a little luck doesn't hurt, too. The plane had open seats and the guy checking us in at the curb not only let us take Ethan's carseat on the plane (without paying for an additional seat) but he personally carried Ethan from the baggage check desk onto the plane and into a seat. He was my total hero for the day until he mentioned how much he loved Rick Santorum but I choose to forget that part and just remember how nice he was. You will not be surprised to hear that he has five children of his own, with a sixth on the way.*
So there I was, settled into a middle seat with a child strapped into a car seat on either side of me. Not bad, really. Until a flight attendant came up and informed me that car seats are not allowed in the row behind the exit row.
We needed to move.
This is the part of the story where all the kind strangers are off getting a coffee.
This being Southwest, hundreds of people have boarded since I sat down and the only way to get three seats together is to go the the very back of the plane. I can't carry two car seats and my bags all by myself so I ask the flight attendant for help or to at least block the boarding traffic for a moment so I can get the three of us moved. That doesn't really happen and I am frantically trying not to leave any child alone for too long while running back and forth down the aisle carrying heavy, awkward carseats. By the time I go back to get my bags there are already people sitting in the seats shoving my stuff to the side with their feet like trash.
I may have lost it again, just for a moment.
And then it was all fine once we got settled back in. About halfway through the flight a different flight attendant from the one I yelled at came to check on me and offered me wine.
Faith in humanity: restored.
*He actually announced the latest pregnancy to the gate agents as we arrived at the gate and they congratulated him, then one of them turned to me and said in a hushed conspiratorial whisper "His wife's not counting right!"
Of course, I do try to minimize the amount of help that I need, which is why when I arrived at the Pittsburgh airport for our flight home and discovered that the Ergo baby carrier, a central part of what makes flying alone with two children possible, was not in the car, I felt dismayed (read = total freak out curbside).
It turns out that the more help you need, the more help those kind strangers will provide. And a little luck doesn't hurt, too. The plane had open seats and the guy checking us in at the curb not only let us take Ethan's carseat on the plane (without paying for an additional seat) but he personally carried Ethan from the baggage check desk onto the plane and into a seat. He was my total hero for the day until he mentioned how much he loved Rick Santorum but I choose to forget that part and just remember how nice he was. You will not be surprised to hear that he has five children of his own, with a sixth on the way.*
So there I was, settled into a middle seat with a child strapped into a car seat on either side of me. Not bad, really. Until a flight attendant came up and informed me that car seats are not allowed in the row behind the exit row.
We needed to move.
This is the part of the story where all the kind strangers are off getting a coffee.
This being Southwest, hundreds of people have boarded since I sat down and the only way to get three seats together is to go the the very back of the plane. I can't carry two car seats and my bags all by myself so I ask the flight attendant for help or to at least block the boarding traffic for a moment so I can get the three of us moved. That doesn't really happen and I am frantically trying not to leave any child alone for too long while running back and forth down the aisle carrying heavy, awkward carseats. By the time I go back to get my bags there are already people sitting in the seats shoving my stuff to the side with their feet like trash.
I may have lost it again, just for a moment.
And then it was all fine once we got settled back in. About halfway through the flight a different flight attendant from the one I yelled at came to check on me and offered me wine.
Faith in humanity: restored.
*He actually announced the latest pregnancy to the gate agents as we arrived at the gate and they congratulated him, then one of them turned to me and said in a hushed conspiratorial whisper "His wife's not counting right!"
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Some updates
It has been longer than I like since I wrote words here so I am going to further postpone finalizing our taxes (that's what extensions are for, right?) and see if I can remember what interesting things have happened over that last month.
This past week Eric called me from work to tell me that he had made a student throw up. Not from the quality of his teaching, I was glad to hear, but on a field trip to a local wastewater treatment facility with his mircobiology lab class. Apparently the intense sewage smell was too much for this delicate flower and she tossed her cookies. Another prissy girl loudly declared their tour the "worst field trip ever" but those who breathed through their mouths and paid attention learned a lot and Eric was pleased with the applied microbiology lessons to be learned from turning sewage into potable water, with a few useful byproducts like nitrogen fertilizer.
Somehow I still have not seen the Hunger Games movie though I really really want to see it even though I already know I will be disappointed because the version in my head from reading the books is so much better. But I must go see it soon.
With help from Emerson, I started a bunch of plants indoors from seed. While the seed collection I brought with us from SF was a little heavy on cool weather crops like spinach, chard and lettuces we picked out some of the warm weather crops like tomatoes and peppers that grew poorly in SF and should do well here. We've been ambitious and started five different heirloom tomato plants, a container variety jalapeno, two plants of basil, one mint, one serrano chile and just for fun one zucchini plant. The seedlings are all doing well and now I need to figure out where outside we will put them. As summer gets hot I may need to arrange a shade canopy to keep them from burning. This is all just a big experiment to get us started on gardening in Florida.
I have been reading the news from a new perspective recently. I had what I am referring to as my "mushroom-induced revelation" a few weeks ago after eating a lot of mushrooms one day and then sleeping poorly that night and doing some deep thinking while lying awake. The short version of the revelation is that I don't have a responsibility to reside in my anger about all of the despicable, unconscionable, horrible things going on in the world. I can read the news and be horrified and then I can let it go, rather than carrying all that anger about how wrong everything is around with me all the time. For the particularly terrible stuff, I will choose to do something about it. But the rest of it doesn't get any better just because I am pissed off about it. In fact, it probably makes it worse because what this world certainly does not need is another really pissed off person. This revelation has freed me up to read the news and be interested in what is going on without the oppressive emotional experience. I have thoughts on whether the Supreme Court is playing the right role with regards to Obamacare (no), whether student loans should be forgiven (no), whether it is OK for Secret Service to bring prostitutes back to their rooms (no), whether "stand your ground" is a helpful law (no), and whether Ann Romney works (this one is complicated), but you won't see me shaking with fury once we're done discussing it.
In related news, I am back to doing some yoga when I can squeeze it into my current life. I don't know how I survived so long without it. It definitely contributes to me being a better, happier person. It does, however, compete with blogging in those few minutes every day when I can do something that isn't taking care of children.
This past week Eric called me from work to tell me that he had made a student throw up. Not from the quality of his teaching, I was glad to hear, but on a field trip to a local wastewater treatment facility with his mircobiology lab class. Apparently the intense sewage smell was too much for this delicate flower and she tossed her cookies. Another prissy girl loudly declared their tour the "worst field trip ever" but those who breathed through their mouths and paid attention learned a lot and Eric was pleased with the applied microbiology lessons to be learned from turning sewage into potable water, with a few useful byproducts like nitrogen fertilizer.
Somehow I still have not seen the Hunger Games movie though I really really want to see it even though I already know I will be disappointed because the version in my head from reading the books is so much better. But I must go see it soon.
With help from Emerson, I started a bunch of plants indoors from seed. While the seed collection I brought with us from SF was a little heavy on cool weather crops like spinach, chard and lettuces we picked out some of the warm weather crops like tomatoes and peppers that grew poorly in SF and should do well here. We've been ambitious and started five different heirloom tomato plants, a container variety jalapeno, two plants of basil, one mint, one serrano chile and just for fun one zucchini plant. The seedlings are all doing well and now I need to figure out where outside we will put them. As summer gets hot I may need to arrange a shade canopy to keep them from burning. This is all just a big experiment to get us started on gardening in Florida.
I have been reading the news from a new perspective recently. I had what I am referring to as my "mushroom-induced revelation" a few weeks ago after eating a lot of mushrooms one day and then sleeping poorly that night and doing some deep thinking while lying awake. The short version of the revelation is that I don't have a responsibility to reside in my anger about all of the despicable, unconscionable, horrible things going on in the world. I can read the news and be horrified and then I can let it go, rather than carrying all that anger about how wrong everything is around with me all the time. For the particularly terrible stuff, I will choose to do something about it. But the rest of it doesn't get any better just because I am pissed off about it. In fact, it probably makes it worse because what this world certainly does not need is another really pissed off person. This revelation has freed me up to read the news and be interested in what is going on without the oppressive emotional experience. I have thoughts on whether the Supreme Court is playing the right role with regards to Obamacare (no), whether student loans should be forgiven (no), whether it is OK for Secret Service to bring prostitutes back to their rooms (no), whether "stand your ground" is a helpful law (no), and whether Ann Romney works (this one is complicated), but you won't see me shaking with fury once we're done discussing it.
In related news, I am back to doing some yoga when I can squeeze it into my current life. I don't know how I survived so long without it. It definitely contributes to me being a better, happier person. It does, however, compete with blogging in those few minutes every day when I can do something that isn't taking care of children.
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