Sunday Baking
gary
Volleyball and Soccer
Game Night
We only have so much time together as a family of four. L will graduate in a few short months, and then her time in our house will be limited to summers. I expect that soon enough, she won’t be staying with us the entire summer. She’ll be twenty, twenty-one years old. She’ll have her own life. She’ll have her own priorities. She’ll have a job that she’ll want to continue working over the summer. Or she’ll have some internship or other. So these evenings are rare.
Some things have, of course, changed, but for poor K, nothing has changed. She always has the absolute worst luck in board games. When we play Monopoly, we call her (and she calls herself) the Slum Lord because she can never manage to get anything other than the very cheapest of properties, and the three of us end up bankrupting her in fairly short order. Tonight’s game of Sorry was no exception. But one other thing stayed the same: we all laughed heartily about it.
Laughing as a family — few things are more precious.
Reading
Here in South Carolina, we’ve grown paranoid about what books students might be reading in school. These books might be exposing our children to horrid ideas that could shake the very foundation of our state, of our country. Ideas like, “Gay people exist.” Notions like, “White people in the past did some very bad things to black people.” Ideas such as, “Horrible things like sexual assault happen,” or “Teens sometimes commit suicide.” We aren’t quite to the point that the notion that “Jews suffered terribly during World War Two” is controversial, but just give us time!
To prevent students from being exposed to books that might in turn expose them to such awful, harmful notions, South Carolina teachers now have to make a list of every single book, article, poem, Power Point presentation, Excel spreadsheet, Google Doc, video clip, painting, sculpture, and any other artifact we haven’t thought yet to add to that list. The list is to be available to anyone (not just any parent of a student in that class; to anyone in the state) so that if anyone has a problem with those materials, they can lodge a formal complaint and work to have that material banned. It’s not just that parents of students in a given classroom can do this; anyone can protest a book, even if they don’t have children in the school in question. Or children at all.
It’s a wonderful time to be an English teacher in South Carolina.
Recently, parents presented three books to be banned. This happened at the State School Board office (none of those positions on the board are elected positions — they’re all appointees from the governor) at 11:00 a.m. on a Thursday. A great time to have an open discussion about the merits of this or that book.
The first book they were considering banning was To Kill a Mockingbird. This is not because of the growing complaint that it presents a skewed view of the African American experience by making it a story of “a white man saves the day!” It’s always been curious to me how we could tell that story without the defense lawyer being a white man: African American lawyers deep in the Jim Crow South were not exactly that numerous. But that was not the potential-book-banner’s complaint. The complaint is the sexual assault that occurs in the book. Except that it doesn’t occur. And that’s the whole point of the book. Still, they made their case before the board.
The second book that some wanted banned was Romeo and Juliet. This was due to the supposed sexual content and the suicide at the end. It is of course silly to suggest that he book in any way promotes suicide, but that was the complaint.
I was anxious about this: These two selections represent the majority of my second-semester work with my honors students. “They are banned, I have no second semester,” I told anyone who’d listen. I decided if they got banned, I’d just do Lord of the Flies instead of Mockingbird. It’s already on our vetted list for our school. (That’s another joy: all novels we read in school must be vetted. Who does the vetting? The school district that recommends it? No — teachers who are told to teach it. “That way,” they cleverly explained, “if it gets challenged in one school, it’s not necessarily challenged everywhere.” I just think they wanted us to do their job for them.) As for Shakespeare, I thought I’d do a greatest hits type unit: I can teach excerpts without the vetting process (though I do still have to list it on my “List of things you might get nervous about” document).
The third book was one that I’ve never taught because our district reserves it for senior year in high school: 1984. That’s right: they wanted to limit access to a book about a totalitarian regime that limited access to information. That’s ironic enough, but one of the reasons someone protested was because — you’re probably not ready for this level of complete and utter ignorance — it’s pro-communist. That’s right: 1984, banned in the Communist Soviet Union, is pro-communist. “Tell me you’ve never read the book without telling me you’ve never read the book,” was the common response among English teachers in our school.
In the end, though, the board was reasonable and declined to ban any of those books. And I can’t believe I just used the word “reasonable” to describe a very basic tenet at the foundation of our constitution.
But it is a temporary victory: those board members can be replaced, and as previously explained, they’re not elected. They’re appointed. And given South Carolinians’ current MAGA-happy political orgasm (a very deliberate word choice: you did see the footage of Trump simulating fellatio with a microphone stand at one of his final rallies, didn’t you?), members of that board are likely to be increasingly conspiratorially minded and less reasonable with each appointment.
It’s a wonderful time to be an English teacher in South Carolina.
Halloween Concert
I forgot to post this…
And given how I feel tonight, I just thought posting something positive was the way to go.
The End
Tonight, L’s volleyball career ended. She won’t be playing in college, and we’ve all decided to use the money we would have put toward a final club season to other uses (like adding some time in Greece this summer for her senior trip). So six years of volleyball came to an end in the second round of playoffs against a team from Clover, South Carolina.
We’ve passed the exit to Clover countless times over the years. It’s just before the turn off highway five to Aunt D’s house — Aunt D, who helped take care of both Nana and Papa, who has a heart that gives endlessly. We commented often on how funny it was that there was a town named after our dog. Strange how these little turns appear unexpectedly in our lives: L’s final game in a town we’ve known and had a private joke about for years but which we never would have imagined visiting.
In a sense, that’s been the common theme of L’s volleyball career. To begin with, when she mentioned in sixth grade that she wanted to try out for the middle school volleyball team, I was a little surprised. She’d played soccer at the Y as a kid, but she wasn’t interested in continuing it. If she devoted her free time to anything, I would have, back then, assumed it would have been dance. She always seemed a bit more showy than athletic as a young child. But once she made her decision to try out for the team, nothing could stop her. Not even not making the team the first year. If anything, that increased her determination.
Once she became obsessed with volleyball, I never would have imagined she could be part of a state championship team. Such occurrences are fairly rare: one has to be at the right place (or rather, on the right team) at the right time. But two years ago (almost to the day), her high school team took the state championship.
There was a time it seemed unimaginable that she wouldn’t play volleyball in college. She seemed so dedicated to it, and she was improving by leaps and bounds each year. But it was not to be: she didn’t get any interest from any of the colleges she wanted to attend, and she made the decision that she wouldn’t choose a college just because she could play volleyball there.
Of course, there were the initial expectations about this year. “We’re not going to win any games this year!” she declared after the first few practices and warm-up tournaments. And it seemed like they wouldn’t be able to get their game together, but the did. And they finished second in the region.
They got further than they ever expected; they achieved more than they thought they could. But that last game — it was tough to go out like that. They just couldn’t get things together, achieving the same dismal results in the first two sets: 14-25. I thought they’d fall apart completely in the third set, but they got themselves together and took the game to a fourth set with a 28-26 win in the third. In the fourth set, they had the same trouble they had in the first two sets and lost 17-25.
It was a tough way to end a wonderful six years of volleyball, and the Girl had difficulty holding back the tears. She broke down after last year’s final game as well. She said it was out of sadness for losing the seniors: “It’s the last time I’ll play with them.” I think in the back of her head, though, she knew in a year it would be her turn. She wants to put herself forward as a no-nonsense type of kid, but I think she’s got just a little of my sentimentality in the mix.
The Facts Laid Out One by One
The choice is stark.
Working Around the House
Black Balsam Knob
Autumn Saturday
Friday Night Football
Halloween 2024
Last Time
Tonight was the last time the Girl went through the introduction ceremony at Mauldin High. They won their playoff game, but they won’t be playing at home anymore this season. A bittersweet moment to be sure.
Beirut
I would have just had to see the album cover for Beirut’s 2006 debut album Gulag Orkestar to have known they would be something special.
As it was, I discovered the thanks to Spotify’s auto-curated playlist the app plays at the end of an album. Band of Horses’ debut Everything All the Time finished up and Spotify began picking songs based off that last selection. A song by Beirut came on, and it had my attention immediately. Accordion, Balkan-style brass, and a modern rhythmic sensibility. It piqued my interest to say the last. I dove in, choosing their second album based on the cover art itself:
“Cliquot” is a song of longing, a song of nostalgia, a song that is at once timeless and modern. “I didn’t know people made music like this anymore,” I thought when I first heard it, immediately listening to it again.
“Gallipoli” with its electronic opening sounds starkly different, and then the horns enter, and you start to notice a trend in Beirut’s music: brass plays the central. Cue the drums and you have a song that sounds completely different than “Cliquot” and yet strangely similar. The vocals enter, and you wonder if it’s not Morrissey singing.
So we’re on this journey into Beirut’s music together and you look at me and say, “I think we’ve found the common thread.” And I say, “Yes, but we haven’t heard the newest album, Hadsel from 2023.” The organ begins and sudden, it’s as if we’ve never heard Beirut before — totally different.
That angelic voice! Those harmonies! All weaving about the organ (a 19th-century organ in Norway). “This is a new side of Beirut,” you say.
And then the trumpet enters.
Lest one think one has cornered Beirut, there’s songs like “Fyodor Dormant,” which begins with an electronic intro that sounds more like eighties dance music before the horns come in, turning the relatively simple intro into a multi-layered Balkan dance tune.
It even has a drum machine! “A totally different Beirut!” I declare. You smile: you’ve given this a surreptitious listen before. You know — the trumpet is coming.
“East Harlem” is up next, and we’re in familiar territory: a squeeze box introduction. And suddenly there’s piano playing eighth-notes as rhythm. It’s a different side. A lighter side. And then the trumpet enters followed by the other brass instruments, and everything changes. Back to a new same old Beirut.
But where is that pure Balkan-flavored music we got a taste of with “Cliquot”? “Let’s go back to the debut album,” you suggest, and there it is.
“I wonder what Beirut would sound like trying to create a pop so with a catchy music video to go along with it,” you muse. Sounds impossible after “Prenzlauerber,” but if we’ve learned anything about Beirut it’s that nothing is impossible. Cue: “No No No.”
And finally, perhaps their finest moment to date: “Arctic Forest.” That music can be so calming, so beautiful, and yet have a beat that renders some kind of movement irresistible — even if you don’t have a dancing bone in your body — is a miracle itself. Add to that the gorgeous arrangement that seems to build but never overwhelm, and you have one of the most perfect songs ever created.
Beirut has been making music for over fifteen years now, and we’ve only now discovered this treasure. It could be worse: we might never have met with this perfection.
In short, the most original and creative musician currently working.
Senior Night
Tonight was the Girl’s last regular-season volleyball game. Not of the year. Of her high school career. We have at least one more game as playoffs start: we’ll be playing someone somewhere this Thursday, but we won’t know until tomorrow morning who and where.
Six years of volleyball are coming to an end. It’s hard not to get a little emotional about that. Last year, with the conclusion of the season’s final game (the second or so round into the playoffs — perhaps the first? I can’t remember), L was in tears at the end of the game. “It’s just that’s the last time we’ll be playing with our seniors,” she said as she explained that she wasn’t in tears so much because of the loss.
The shoe is on the other foot now, one could argue. It’s the other girls who should be crying because they’re losing L. “It’s just that we’ll never play with L or S again,” they should be saying. Or maybe the tears last year weren’t just about the senoirs leaving.
Before the game, we had a ceremony with intros, pictures, and cheers. The girls on the team made gift baskets and posters for the two seniors, and there was a display in the gym entry. The coach had asked parents last week to send some pictures of the girls from various points in their childhood and in their volleyball careers, and she chose a baby picture of each girl and had t-shirts made for the parents. Coincidentally, she chose the same picture Papa’s coworkers chose years ago to make a shirt for him as he retired (for the second time? third?).
After the coin toss and warmups, the girls were introduced — possibly the last time L is introduced on her home court where the cheers are the loudest and most sincere.
As for the game itself, it was a fairly simple matter: Greenwood’s divisional record before tonight was 1-12. We’d already beaten them once, and we won easily tonight. But I have to hand it to those Greenwood girls: it takes a lot to keep coming out game after game when you’re stacking up loss after loss, almost all of them in straight sets.
Afterward, there were the usual shots — with the unusual shirts.
Night Hike
Looking Glass Sunset
First Ride in Weeks
Final Games
The end of an era is nearing. Tonight was the next-to-last home game in L’s high school volleyball career. It’s likely to be highly emotional on Monday when it’s the last home game, but tonight, there wasn’t time for emotion. It was time for revenge.
Our girls were playing Hillcrest, a team that beat them 1-3 earlier in the year. However, they lost in five sets to Easley, whom our girls beat soundly in straight sets the first time they met this season and won again (though in five sets) the other night at home. It was, in my eyes, a must-win game.
The Girl thought so, too.
The Mavs started off weakly, though: they trailed most of the first set, and in the end, lost it 19-25. “The Hillcrest girls are so confident,” K observed, “despite the fact that they’ve lost their last five matches.”
Everyone knew the second set was a critical set: lose it, and it would be hard to win the match. Reverse sweeps are not unheard of, but they are rare. We pulled ahead quickly in the second set, and then launched a huge attack that ended the set with a 25-17 win.
One set each makes the third set the momentum-maker: whoever wins that one needs to win only one more set. At first, I didn’t think our girls wanted it: they trailed by about five at one point. But they pulled back and pulled ahead. Then they let Hillcrest catch up. In the end, though, they held them off and won 25-22.
The momentum was definitely on our girls’ side of the court that fourth set: they pulled ahead after being behind 1-4 and never looked back, winning a deciding third set 25-22. It extended the Hillcrest girls’ losing streak to six, and while I usually don’t like seeing someone lose like that, I didn’t mind too much tonight.
Neither did our girls.
Department of Defense
I was discussing with my principal how I’d like to reward the class (fourth period) that had absolutely no NHIs for the whole quarter. That means every student turned in every assignment. Seems basic, mundane even. To put it in context, one class had 57 NHIs for fewer assignments.
“I’d really like to reward them, but it would be great to be able to do something really big for them, like buy everyone lunch. But we’d need a budget like the Department of Defense,” I said.
“We are the DoD,” he laughed. “Those people out their have no idea what we’re saving them from…”