Matching Tracksuits

growing

The Boys in the Creek

Monday 13 June 2022

E’s best friend came over for the afternoon today. At first, they did what boys these days do: play video games. However, we have no gaming console in our house at all. No Xbox, no Play Station, no Nintendo Switch. In fact, I only know those things exist because I hear students and teachers talking about them at school. And of course, E brings them up occasionally.

And it’s a little surprising, to be honest, how many adults with no children or with grown children still invest time and money into gaming systems. To each his own, I suppose, but I always thought there was a time when people outgrew video games.

Not having a gaming system has several advantages, not the least of which is the simple fact that since we don’t buy games for our PC either, E’s gaming options are severely curtailed. Which means he and his friend grow tired of them eventually and head outside to find other things to do.

Like catching minnows in the creek behind our house.

As for the Girl today, she was out of the house for most of the day: physical therapy, volleyball strength training, and driving instruction took almost all her day.

Working Girl

Thursday 26 May 2022

The Girl has her second job: this time, she’s working at Dairy Queen. I guess there’s a certain continuity with last summer’s job at Culver’s, but only vaguely.

When she was applying for the job, I suggested that she shouldn’t leave the reference section empty.

“They’re so desperate for workers,” she explained, “that it doesn’t matter.” I recommended that she reconsidered; she didn’t. She got the job.

It helped that she did have experience, though, that she could go straight to work, that she knew how to work a register. The first day on the job, they put her behind a register and got her working with almost no immediate training.

The other afternoon, our family friends went through the drive-thru to get a little snack. L didn’t realize it was them until they pulled up.

This is now one of my favorite pictures of her.

Growth

Monday 9 May 2022

It’s that time of year: my students are writing their letters to next year’s students. The English 8 kids wrote them last Friday; English I will be writing them in a couple of weeks.

The guidelines are simple:

  1. Provide advice for rising eight-graders
  2. Show off how well you can write now.

To achieve the second goal, I only allow students one class period to write the letters. The results could theoretically be a little better for the English 8 students if I gave them more time, but part of the charm in the whole exercise is watching next year’s students’ shock when I tell them at the letters they’re reading are in fact first and only drafts.

One young lady’s letter demonstrated so wonderfully how much she’d grown as a person from the beginning of the year. J, at the start of the year, was one of the most worrying students: her behavior was often disruptive; she was often disrespectful when teachers called her on her behavior; she rarely did any work, and what she did was not turned in or handed in still incomplete.

Yet over the course of the school year, she’s calmed down, learned that butting heads with teachers is counterproductive, and begun doing her work (then doing her best). Her grade has gone from a 62 (just barely passing) to a 84, just six points shy of an A.

One paragraph of her letter reads:

How to stay out of trouble in the 8th grade? Staying out of trouble in the 8th grade is probably one of the most important things you can do. One thing you can do to prevent getting in trouble is to minimize your circle and stop posting things on social media. People take a lot of things to social media and the drama leads into school so now it’s the school’s problem and once you post something on social media there’s literally no going back. It’s there forever. Having a lot of friends can cause you to get into a lot of stuff because once one of your friends is beefing with one another they are going to bring you into it because they want you to choose one or the other. My advice to you as a 8th grader right now is to never trust a soul, follow the right path and take it slow, that’s how you can be successful in the 8th grade.

There’s a certain cynicism in that conclusion, but perhaps it’s not entirely awful advice.

Putting Him to Bed

Tuesday 29 March 2022

“Will you come check on me?”

For a few years now, that’s been one of the last things E has said to me or K. We put him in bed; we snuggle with him; we grow sleepy; we realize we can’t fall asleep; we get up and leave. He hears us.

“Will you come check on me?”

Gradually, it’s become a little different: “Will someone come check on me?”

The answer has gradually changed, too.

“Sure.” And then we wait for a while, doing something in the kitchen or reading at the dining room table. “Will someone come and check on me?” comes a voice from upstairs.

Eventually, “sure” because “probably.” The response initially is, “No, I need you to check on me!”

Eventually, he comes to accept that, and usually, someone goes to check on him. Usually. But not always.

“Probably” becomes “maybe.” “Maybe” eventually becomes “I hope so.” And “I hope so” remains for a while with an occasional, “No. I have too much to do tonight.”

This process has taken a couple of years. And now he’s nearly ten years old. And I come to realize that putting him to bed is almost done. For good. It was about this age that L began putting herself to bed, and the Boy already does it occasionally. So the end is near. And so the answers start backing up. “No” disappears, as does “I hope so.” “Probably” appears occasionally, but simple “yes” makes its return. For a while.

Pinewood Derby 2022

Saturday 29 January 2022

For this year’s car, we decided to get a little silly.

Post-race damage evident

“I can’t believe we didn’t make a single cut on the car this year!” was the Boy’s refrain.

We drilled a couple of holes to put in some weight; we sanded a lot; and we painted a bit. However, not a single cut.

We haven’t had a lot of success in the pinewood derby. I don’t think the Boy has even placed in his den let alone the pack.

Still, we kept trying. Last year, we employed a number of tricks:

  • polishing the axels;
  • bending the axles to make the wheels point outward at the bottom to minimize friction;
  • mounting one front wheel high so that it didn’t touch the track;
  • making sure we’d put the weight in the perfect location relative to the car’s center of gravity.

None of that really helped.

I think this year we were both hopeful that if we didn’t place in the actual race we might get some recognition for originality. After all, we entered a stick of butter.

“I can’t believe we didn’t make a single cut on the car this year!”

It did about as well as our fine-tuned, finely-balanced car from last year in the race. And in the superlatives?

The Boy’s expression says it all.

“I was hoping to win something today,” he said quietly afterward.

Lost Photos

Tuesday 11 January 2022

I never published these photos, to my knowledge — I don’t know how that happened. They’re so old that it’s almost funny: L and her friend E are now in high school, as tall or taller than their parents, learning to drive, alternatively annoying and charming adults.

Little I no longer is little. He’s in middle school now.

And our little man E and E’s and I’s little sister E? Not even a thought in their head.

Code

Tuesday 7 December 2021

The Boy has become interested in ciphers and codes. They learned about them in school this week and so he wants to learn about more of them. Tonight, he and I were writing things back and forth in pig pen cipher:

upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/3/...

It’s a simple replacement cipher, but the Boy loves it.

During our evening walk, I mentioned to him that Papa knew a real code: Morse Code.

“Really?!”

I thought Papa had mentioned that so many times, doing his “da-dit-dit” routine to spell various words out in code, that no one could have forgotten about that. Apparently, E had.

“I wish Papa was still here.”

We’ll be having those moments for some time to come, I think.

Hero

Saturday 30 October 2021

We all dream of being a hero. We can say we don’t, but we all have those little fantasies that at least once, we save the day. E is no exception, and for that reason, this fall’s soccer season has been disappointing for him. It’s not that he hasn’t felt like a hero; he has positively felt like he’s added very little to his team. In one game, an attacker beat him when he was a defender to score the first goal of the game, and I could see from his expression afterward that he felt horrible about it.

It certainly doesn’t help that his team has won only one game this season, and that was only by forfeit because the other team didn’t know about the game time change somehow and no one showed up. They’ve been beaten and they’ve been positively trounced.

“We’re never going to win,” has been the Boy’s refrain as we head back to the car. The other boys feel the same, I think.

Last week, for example, while we were camping, only five of the players showed up. They played anyway, and the asshole coach of the opposing team played all seven positions against our five boys, so the poor boys got beaten, though not as badly as one might expect (7-4).

Today, too, we were shorthanded, but a boy from the other team joined our team, and we played at even strength. (That coach showed class unlike the classless individual from last week.) We began relatively unremarkably, with neither team really dominating. Then, about ten minutes into the first half, E broke free with the ball and headed straight to the goal, firing a rocket that went right by the goalie and sank into the back corner of the net.

“E just scored!!!!!!!!!!” I texted K with probably the biggest grin smeared across my face. Last season, his first with CESA (the local soccer league), he hadn’t scored a single goal all season.

By the end of the first half the red team had equalized and then pulled ahead, so we went into break under a bit of pressure.

“I was sure we were going to lose,” E explained later. When red scored a third time, E was convinced that they were going to experience their next inevitable loss. But shortly after that, the Boy broke through the defenses again and scored his second goal, pulling his team to within one. Just a few minutes after that, he was through again, but he stumbled a bit and sent the ball well wide of the goal.

“How amazing that would have been!” I thought.

Just moments later, the Boy broke through, outran two defenders, and shot a lovely looping curve into the net. Three goals in one game — a coveted hat-trick. To top it all off, I finally had my camera up while he scored — in the other two, I’d dropped it to my side and just cheered him on, but the final one, I kept firing away.

But of all the shots from today, my favorite is the one just after his first goal when he’d just gotten a big congratulatory low-five from a teammate. Head slightly down, a little spring in his step, he walked back to his position. I look at the image and wonder what exactly he was thinking, wonder just how much it might help his confidence, wonder if it might not be the best thing that’s happened to him in ages.

Wypasiona Dolina 2021

Tuesday 27 July 2021

Despite the fact that L had a less-than-positive experience with the line park just outside of Jablonka, it became just about her favorite activity when at Babcia’s.

Overcoming

This year the Boy is old enough to do the larger courses, and it’s clear: he’ll probably share L’s opinion of the park.

First Check

Saturday 3 July 2021

The Girl recently began working at Culver’s, which is a restaurant we’ve passed on a busy road a number of times but which we’ve never given a thought to. We really didn’t even know the type of food they serve. So we were in the dark as much as the Girl.

She’s worked a few short shifts now, and today, she picked up an extra shift through the app the company uses for scheduling employees. Workers can request coverage for unexpected time they want off, and others can pick up that coverage for extra hours. So she went in to work from 4:00 to 8:30 today.

Today, she got her first check.

Fresh

Wednesday 23 June 2021

The Girl’s first day on the job was yesterday, but she was just shadowing people. “I learned how to restock the ketchup! Thrilling!” she exclaimed with a hint of sarcasm.

Today, she worked on the cash register, which means she had multiple interactions with the public.

“Hi! Welcome to Culver’s! What can I get started fresh for you today?”

“Is that what you have to say? Those exact words?” I asked during our conversation after she returned.

“No, we just have to work ‘fresh’ into it somehow.”

“So you could say something like, ‘Hi! Welcome to Culver’s, home of freshity fresh-fresh freshness!’? Would that work?”

She rolled her eyes as a fourteen-year-old will do.

As for the picture, I had to sneak it.

Boys’ Lunch

Monday 21 June 2021

After visiting with Papa this morning, E and I decided we needed a boys’ afternoon out for lunch. And when it’s a boys’ afternoon out for lunch, we always choose Mexican. And when we choose Mexican, the Boy always chooses the same thing: enchiladas.

The Girl couldn’t go with us because, well, it was a boys’ afternoon, but also because she had her first day at work. I got to see her in her Culver’s uniform, but I didn’t get to snap a picture. Not yet, at least.

The Week Ends

Friday 18 June 2021

We go from week to week without much thought most of the time. Monday comes, and we drag ourselves out of the bed and into work. Sometimes we’re lucky and have a job that we enjoy, and we’re eager to get to work. I’m fortunate that most Mondays, that’s how I feel. But no matter how much we love our job, the week grinds us down, and Friday evening brings a welcome release. We make the most of the weekend, try to recharge ourselves, and head out into the world the next week.

We go through these weeks week after week, again and again, and each week brings some progress to whatever our goals and adventures might be, but after a while, everything just seems to blend together. Week after week, no single week seems to be different than the one that preceded it, or the one that proceeded it. Weeks pass like days which pass like hours, which flow by like seconds, which make the steady stream we call reality.

But every now and then, we have weeks that change everything made up of days that are constant little shifts that are made up of hours that are utterly unpredictable. And the reality we start those weeks with is completely different than the reality that ends the week.

When Nana had a pulmonary embolism two and a half years ago, the week she spent in the hospital afterward was just such a week. She should not, according to the statistics, have survived that first night. But she did. And any time someone survives like that, the week that follows is a week that realigns the reality of everyone connected to the survivor.

This has been such a week for us, ending in a trip to the ER. We make it into a room at the ER but have to wait for a while: there is an arrest issue on the floor, the nurse explains, and I have to ask for clarification: cardiac or criminal? It is, of course, the former, and I feel immediately stupid for asking the question.

The doctor comes in and asks Papa some questions. He sits behind me and talks to me about what’s been going on. I show him some videos I shot. He’s suddenly as concerned as I am. He orders some tests and tells me he’s going to try to get the presiding hospital doctor to come in to see Papa.

While we wait, we hear a child outside crying as his mother tries to explain something he ate while crying at the same time. No one can really get the words out, but in the midst of it all, the mother is trying to comfort her son, calm herself, and talk to the doctor at the same time.

A nurse comes in and wheels out Papa as I reflect on the role reversal that’s been building over the last two years. I recall an ER visit when I was in second grade and got busted in the face with a football helmet face mask because the coach was letting me run the workout with the other players even though I didn’t yet have a uniform. Blood gushing everywhere, I required several stitches that evening. That was a week that changed a few things, but not everything: I refused to give up football even though my ability to practice was hampered. Curtailed even.

When Papa comes back in, he asks me where we are. I take his hand and tell him, giving his hand a squeeze and assuring him that we’ll all be alright.

It reminds me immediately of what I used to say to L when we were nearing an argument over some petty triffle: “Don’t worry, honey, you won’t be thirteen forever.”

“You always say that!”

“I’m not just saying that for your sake…”

Coming full circle in so many ways.

First Swim Meet

Thursday 10 June 2021

E had his first swim meet today. The team’s first meet was last week, but in classic E fashion, he wanted to go check one out before participating. For today’s meet, he agreed to swim one event: 25 freestyle. “I hate backstroke, and I really don’t know how to do breaststroke,” he reasoned. “And butterfly…” His voice trailed off to indicate it was a fantasy.

Since I’m finally able to find a little time with him at the pool, we spent a little time there these last two mornings working on improving his stroke. His kick was just knee action, which resulted in a lot of splash and very little propulsion. He sunk his chin into his chest, creating a large surface to plow through the water. He wiggled his upper body from side to side to compensate for his stroke rather than rotating his shoulders along his verticle (when standing of course) axis. All this combined resulted in a very inefficient stroke, so we worked to improve that a bit.

His event had three heats today, and he was in the last heat. I could tell as heat two prepared to go that he was nervous, having serious second thoughts about the whole project.

I’m fairly certain that if I’d walked over then and asked if he wanted just to ditch the whole thing, he would have enthusiastically agreed.

I thought he might be worried about the crowd. “I don’t like the idea of doing something I’m not very good at in front of so many people,” he confided in me this morning.

I thought he might be worried about coming in dead last. I feared he would: he really doesn’t have much swimming experience other than playing around, and some of those kids his age have clearly been swimming competitively for years.

I thought he might be worried about the starting blocks: I didn’t know how many times he’s used them, and to my knowledge, he hadn’t used them at all this summer.

It turns out, though, that he was most worried about being disqualified. “A and O told me that if you pull your head straight out of the water to get a breath instead of turning to the side, you’ll get DQ’ed,” he explained. “I really didn’t want to get DQ’ed.”

I assured him that was not the case even though it could very well be the case. “Whatever the case,” I thought to myself, “we’ll never know if he gets DQ’ed unless he’s a contender for one of the higher places.” In the end, he got second place in his heat. Granted, there were only two swimmers, but we laughed about that. “I’m just proud of you for conquering this fear,” I told him.

“Thank you,” he smiled, hugging me and telling me probably for the 100th time today, “I love you, Daddy.”

Jobs

Wednesday 9 June 2021

My first real job was as a lifeguard at the pool in my high school. During the evenings, from 6:30 to 8:30, it was open for public swimming, and those hours were extended in the summer to include morning and afternoon swimming. Those hours on the lifeguard stand seemed endless, making the evening shift seem more than double its actual time. At times, I had to tell myself, to force myself, not to look at the clock, to resist the urge for as long as possible because I knew that, despite being sure fifteen or twenty minutes had passed, I knew I would look up and see that only five minutes had dragged by. After everyone had left, I had to clean the pool deck, clean the bathrooms, and once every few days vacuum the pool.

“Being a lifeguard is not as glamorous as it seems,” my boss (who was also my swim coach) warned us when we all began taking the requisite courses to become certified. “Being a lifeguard is, in reality, nothing more than being a glorified janitor.” He’d forgotten to mention the utter boredom.

Many teens start their working lives in fast food, and so the second job I got was at a Wendy’s franchise one summer. Tired of being a glorified janitor, I applied for the job on the advice of a friend who also worked there. It was a little better than being a lifeguard: there was at least some variety. One day I might be working on the grill; the next day I might be serving up fries. I never got to work the register, though, because I quit after a month: the manager was scheduling me to work so little that I was sure I could find a better way to spend my time — at least looking for a job with more hours.

One summer in high school, I worked mornings with a man who did landscaping. It was tiring work, and it was frustrating as well: he often didn’t explain things terribly well and then fussed at me when I didn’t do things the way he’d intended.

Today, E and I dropped off L at a local ice cream franchise for her to apply for her first job. Her friend S applied for and got a job there, and she was to start her first shift just after L’s interview.

“I’d have to work the register,” she explained on the way there, “because I can’t use any of the equipment. S said she can’t even touch the microwave.”

“How old do you have to be for that?” I asked.

“Sixteen.” So by the time she’s allowed to make milkshakes for people rather than just taking orders for them, she’ll also be old enough to drive herself to work. And that’s all in just two short years.

Going through some photos while taking an afternoon coffee today, I noticed some pictures I hadn’t remembered: the kids, out with Babcia and K during their Polska 2015 visit. The children are both vastly different in these images than they are now, with E currently just about the same age as L in the image. And the same old thoughts and realizations came back yet again…

The Ball

Thursday 3 June 2021

L’s school had the eighth-grade ball this evening.