The Boy declared, “This is a lot of fun.”
Month: June 2018
Working Monday
The Boy and I spent the day working, working like I never really do during the school year. Actual work. Sweaty work. Blister-biting work. Aching working. A friend — who helped us remodel our kitchen two years, without whom we would have been completely and totally lost — is making an addition to his house. Like our house, it’s brick veneer, and he won’t be able to match the brick perfectly with what’s available now, so we’re taking down the veneer from one end of the house.
We came home sweaty and tired yet satisfied.
And what did we do afterward, after a shower and lunch and a bit of relaxing? We went back outside to play soccer for almost an hour and get sweaty again.
We took on roles — E is Ronaldo while I’m Lewandowski — and played a game that must have been some kind of record as far as scoring goes: 18-14. I scored two goals accidentally: I blocked his attempts to kick the ball by me and surge to the net and the ball rolled into his net.
We were going to head out after dinner to finish the game, but a storm rolled in, so we sat and cheered K on as she made the latest batch of pickles.
Tomorrow, we do it all again — probably even the pickles, considering the amount of cucumbers we have.
Heading Home
After two consecutive losses that left them at the bottom of their four-team World Cup group, the Polish team is heading home after their third and final game later this week. Even if they win against Japan, they won’t have enough points to move on to the next round of sixteen teams.
But we didn’t know that when a group of Poles and sympathizers gathered to watch Poland play Columbia this afternoon.
There was optimism from the beginning, but I told K on the way there, “You know Columbia is going to win, right?”
Why? Poland had played so pathetically against Senegal that I felt they were broken psychologically. Senegal was supposed to be the push-over team in their group. They were supposed to be the ones everyone trampled on like they’re a bunch of amateurs. And then on Tuesday, the Poles scored an own-goal and let the Senegalese take an embarrassingly easy second goal due entirely to a ridiculous error from the Polish goalie to end 2-1.
I had that feeling, and truth be told, K did too. Everyone in the room except for the three Columbians in the room probably had that feeling as well. Of course, they might well have felt that way, too.
All the Poles sang “Mazurek Dąbrowskiego,” the Polish national anthem.
Poland has not yet perished,
So long as we still live.
What the foreign force has taken from us,
We shall with sabre retrieve.
March, march, Dąbrowski,
From the Italian land to Poland.
Under your command
We shall rejoin the nation.
We’ll cross the Vistula, we’ll cross the Warta,
We shall be Polish.
Bonaparte has given us the example
Of how we should prevail.
The Columbians sang their national anthem:
Oh, unwithering glory!
Oh, immortal jubilance!
In furrows of pain,
goodness now germinates.The dreadful night has ceased.
Sublime Liberty
beams forth the dawn
of her invincible light.
All of humanity
that groans within its chains,
understands the words
of He who died on the cross.
In both cases, I think they only got through about two verses: the anthem at the stadium was instrumental and short.
The good mood among the Poles didn’t last long. Just before the end of the first half, Yerry Mina scored for Columbia. Of course, there was still hope. Among Poles, there’s always hope. But it was waning: a tie would not do. Only a victory could save the Polish national team. Yet halfway through the second half, at the 70-minute mark, Radamel Falcao scored a second goal for Columba. And as if to rub a little dirt in the Poles’ faces, Juan Cuadrado scored again five minutes later.
And it was all over.
“I don’t see what the big deal is,” a friend said. “They’ll be another World Cup, another chance.” True enough.
And Down
Up
Chased by a couple of dogs, the cat ran up a tree. Not just high enough to be out of reach of the dogs; she climbed around 50 feet up. That was eight this morning. By ten, she’d somehow managed to jump to a lower limb in a neighboring tree, but that was it: since then, she hasn’t moved.
How long can cats stay in a tree? I asked the internet and got a wide range of answers, from 3 days to 10 days.
“In heat like this?” K asked?
Likely not.
Final Game
The Girl had her last volleyball game this evening. She’s come a long way since she began some weeks ago. She couldn’t even pass a volleyball; in games, she was somewhat intimidated by the ball. Her serve was non-existent. She was, in short, a complete beginner.
By the end of the season, she’s got a decent underhand serve and is working on an overhand serve. She’s starting to chase down balls rather than shy away from them. And she’s still in love with the game, so next week, it’s volleyball camp.
Cleaning Up
Summer Saturday
The day started with a frenzy of activity for the Boy and me. First, there was soccer clinic, which is an addition to the spring soccer season that he just finished. The coach suggested that E has a certain awareness of what’s going on during a game that might benefit from additional practice and coaching. For the Boy’s part, he always explained it thus: “I just run around the outside until I see my moment, then I go!”
Afterward, we headed to our favorite local park for a summer scouting event. A bit of kickball kicked everything off and showed me that the Boy has little to no understanding of kickball/baseball. He didn’t know when to run to the next base when he was on (every kid got to kick every inning, no matter the outs), and he had no idea what to do while in the field.
How did I learn baseball? I don’t know that, at age six, I would have done much better. So many sports just seem absorbed with one’s culture.
After lunch, we went on a short hike, and this was where the Boy was in his element. We’ve hiked and ridden all the trails at Conestee Park seemingly countless times.
The Boy explained this, the Boy explained that. He told about walking Clover here. He explained which portions were particularly challenging on a bike.
When we got home, it was time for a rest. A summer thunderstorm landed on us, and we all marveled at the amount of water that can fall in such a short time — so much that our overflow for our rain barrel become completely overwhelmed.
After dinner? A return to Conestee with the Boy for a bike ride.
First Ride
Every time E and I go on a bike ride, he’s always asking the same question: “When can we go on a family bike ride?”
Today, we got our chance. We took the girls on the same ride we completed yesterday, with E in the lead again.
“Okay, girls, here’s a really tricky part coming up,” he would announce from time to time.
We did 10.31 km in just over an hour, with an average speed of approximately 8.7 kph.
There were times when L showed a resilience that impressed me. We did a fair amount of trail riding, including a couple of relatively steep climbs. The Boy had to get off and push; once, K did so, too; the Girl soldiered on with me.
Pressure
You just can’t do any work without the Boy wanting to get involved.
It’s ridiculous the amount of gunk that was in the concrete seams.
Mama
The raccoon family that lives in the hole in the sweetgum tree at the corner of our neighbor’s yard has had this year’s brood.
Every now and then mama comes out to check on what’s going on in the neighborhood.
VBS 1
Years and years ago, I spent a few weeks of summers in the north of Poland, in the lake district, working at a camp for young Poles looking to improve their language ability. After a year of teaching, spending several weeks teaching some more wasn’t something I was looking forward to, but the money was decent, and I was there with friends, old and new.
The days started with lessons and ended with sports. I did a session on blues — native Polish teachers of English found it interesting, but the kids, who were into techno, not so much. That’s about all I remember of it, other than the routine of it. Up for breakfast, a couple of sessions, then off to sports after lunch.
Still, there was something pleasant about those mornings. Knowing that I wasn’t teaching toward some test or other, knowing that fun was the operative word (even if I didn’t provide it consistently for my young charges), I enjoyed working in a new place with new kids.
Today was the first day of Vacation Bible School. I agreed to serve as photographer for the camp, so instead of dropping the kids off and heading off to accomplish something or other, I went about snapping pictures.
Over 300 pictures, and only one I can post here…
Ice Cream Downtown
Party!
Graduation and fiftieth birthday.
The End, 2018
Graduation
As of tomorrow, L will officially be done with elementary school, but it was all over and done with today for all intents and purposes: tomorrow is a half-day, and today was graduation.
How in the world did six years go by so quickly? How did she jump from kindergarten — that first Meet the Teacher evening when she was enthralled with the reading pit in the library — to the end of her fifth-grade year when she looks more like a teenager than a kindergartener?
She’s no longer dependent on us for every little thing. She no longer seeks reassurance for every little thing. She no longer plays with toys or watches cartoons, except when she’s watching something the Boy has selected.
She has a sense of things that embarrass her when she once was, like most young children, virtually shameless. (And that sense of embarrassment is sometimes skewed in a distinctly teenage fashion — things that would never embarrass an adult, like taking a change of clothes in a small bag. “They won’t even notice,” I insisted. “They notice everything,” she insisted. I doubt it, but in that case, her perception is all that counted.)
It’s the end of a long chapter in her life, the end of elementary school, the end of childhood in many ways.
Party
