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Floyd Rose

Monday 27 December 2021

The Boy has wanted it for some time — a guitar with a Floyd Rose bridge. I didn’t really know what makes a Floyd Rose bridge a Floyd Rose bridge. I knew that in practice it meant that pulling up on the whammy bar of such a bridge would raise the pitch of the strings just as pushing down on it would lower it, which meant that the bridge had to go in both directions. I didn’t think it through, though: that means the bridge has to be a floating bridge, which means that the pressure of the strings itself must be countered by something other than the guitar body. In a FR bridge, that pressure is countered with several springs under the bridge. But that means that if you change the gauge of the strings, you put more or less pressure on the bridge, making a previously well-adjusted bridge completely mal-adjusted.

Add to it the difficulty of stringing this guitar — well, it became obvious that the Boy had to learn how to do it all and learn quickly.

Winter Exploring

Sunday 12 December 2021

It’s been a while since the Boy and I went exploring behind our house. I can’t recall the last time — I don’t know that we did much exploring during the summer if any.

When we got to the place we first cross the creek, we discovered that our normal method was impossible: the bricks and stones we’d set up to step across were gone, washed away by one storm or another. We had to improvise. We had to make a plan. We had to find materials and rig everything together.

“You’re a scout — this is just up your alley!” I suggested.

In the end, we pulled several sticks together to spread our weight out and used another stick for balance. It gave us both a little sense of accomplishment, but I was just enjoying spending time with him.

When we got to the spot we have to cross for the second time, we discovered it too had washed away. Fortunately, there was a log nearby, and we simply had to put it in place.

At the end of our route, where we always exited the sewer easement (that’s essentially where we explore) into an empty lot, we saw that the house begun earlier this year is nearing completion, which means we might not be able to do this much more — at least exit onto the street and walk back via streets.

In the evening, some cards with K.

Final Game Night

Saturday 27 November 2021

We played Ticket to Ride tonight — a favorite game for all of us. L and K enjoy it because they actually play to win; E and I love it because we play to stop them from winning. Not to win ourselves — just to get in their way. It means there’s a lot of laughs, a bit of frustration from time to time, and lots of memories.

I’ve always associated games with the extended Thanksgiving break. When we went to Nashville to visit Nana’s brother for Thanksgiving, one of the highlights for me was digging through their game closet. They had everything — games we had of course like Scrabble but also games I’d always wanted to play but never owned like Life and Battleship. And of course Monopoly. I loved it as at E’s age just as much as he loves it, and I’m sure everyone else put up with it just like we put up with it.

Chess

Tuesday 23 November 2021

Chess Club

Thursday 4 November 2021

We had our first meeting of chess club at school today. I didn’t have a chance to get it going during the first quarter because of — well, truth be told, a good bit of it was laziness. But I was overwhelmed with all the responsibilities of teaching a class I hadn’t taught in a few years, so I put it off. I already regret it a little: I had about 12 kids show up for the first meeting today, and three of them were girls. I can’t express how thrilled I was that three girls were interested in chess, something always seen as a nerdy boys’ game.

Boys, Dogs, and Holes

Sunday 10 October 2021

A boy and a dog have to dig. It’s in their nature. Millions of years of evolution have implanted in them an irresistible craving to put holes in the ground Entire YouTube channels are likely devoted entirely to digging holes.

Clover digs these holes when she’s frustrated. If she’s been outside most of the day and is aware that we’re home, she wants to join us. If we don’t let her in, she digs. We open the window in the kitchen and shout down the hill, “Clover! No!” This stops her for a short time, but it’s never more than a few minutes before she starts digging again.

“You’re digging your own grave, dog,” I’ve muttered to her countless times when E and I are heading down to take out the compost, and at this point, the dog has just about gotten a whole big enough that she does indeed fit into it.

As for the Boy’s holes, they’re a different story. Occasionally he’s on a golf kick and wants to have a hole to shoot for. Never mind all he’s got are a cheap driver and iron from the thrift store. He uses them both as putters and sometimes decides he needs a hole to shoot for.

Other times, he’s building something. Tonight, he was working on a lean-to because he’d see it on his favorite YouTube channel. That involved a number of power tools and a bit of elbow grease, and we got very little of it done. But the hole — the most important part of the day — was completed.

Autumnal Friday Night

Friday 8 October 2021

It is now officially autumn for some three or so weeks. The temperature hasn’t dropped so much, but it’s been a dreary week as far as the weather goes, and we’re all tired.

There’s nothing better than some hot tea and a game of Monopoly on such an evening. Well, the Monopoly — not so much.

“Do you want to play, Mama?” E asks.

“Not really, but I will.”

I give the same answer. But we both give in and play occasionally — it’s what family does.

Closure

Wednesday 25 August 2021

When we put Nana’s ashes in the memorial bench, I had one thought lingering in the back of my mind the entire time: soon enough, we’ll be doing this for Papa as well.

So today brought a certain closure to it all. My parents are in their final resting place. Their urns are touching, together again.

During the short service, led by Nana’s and Papa’s pastor, there was talk of the hope we have in Jesus, the hope of eternal life together with God. I sat staring at Papa’s urn, hoping the topic wouldn’t come up in the after-service chat. I always feel awkward in those moments because I play along, agree with whoever is talking, and even say things that I don’t even mean or believe. Our neighbor, for example, was talking to me the other day about Papa’s passing.

“Well, he’s with Omi now, and they’re probably still hugging,” she said.

“No,” I laughed, “she probably isn’t done fussing at him yet.”

I don’t believe that, but I felt it was something that would give our neighbor a smile, and having lost her husband only this spring, I thought laughs are probably all too uncommon in her life these days.

In the evening, some family Uno, three-hand cribbage, and of course, our family favorite, badminton.

Consolation

Thursday 15 July 2021

When Papa was in his late thirties or early forties (I can’t really remember), we had a family membership at the local YMCA, and he liked to play basketball. He didn’t like playing with men his age — too slow. He played with the twenty- and twenty-one-year-olds. It was hard and aggressive, and while I can’t really remember how good Papa was at basketball, I do remember how tenacious he was, how he never gave up.

One time he was breaking for the basket, forcing his way through a couple of defenders, when he leaped, shot, landed on his ankle at an angle, and fell in agony with a snap that everyone heard.

As Papa lay there on the floor, rolling about in agony, one of the other players leaned into the group huddled about him and said, “If it’s any consolation to you, sir, you made the basket.”

Tonight, L made a block that won the point but resulted in an ankle injury. A young lady on her team told her, “But L, you won the point.”

The Other Sister

Tuesday 13 July 2021

Papa grew up with six siblings: four sisters and two brothers. The first sibling to go was his youngest brother, who was killed in Vietnam in 1972. I’m named after him but never met him. It was about thirteen years before the next sibling passed, Papa’s older brother, who had cancer and died in the mid-eighties. And then there three and a half decades before another sibling passed, followed by another sibling just a year or two later.

And so now there are three of them: a younger sister, Aunt D, who visited Sunday, and the first-born of the entire group of seven, who visited today. Aunt Y doesn’t get out much, and the last time she was at our house was for Papa’s birthday, probably close to a decade ago. We all used to meet at Aunt D’s house for Thanksgiving, but the last time we did that must have been five or more years ago. The last time all three of them were together was at Nana’s funeral. What a sad thought that that might indeed be the last time the three surviving siblings are together. But I guess that’s the nature of reunions as we all get older.

Cards

Saturday 10 July 2021

Cards

Monday 5 July 2021

In the morning,

and in the afternoon.

In the Backyard

Tuesday 20 April 2021

I sometimes feel guilty when E asks to spend some time with me, and all I end up doing is sitting and directing him. Today, for example, he wanted to work on a little project he devised some time ago. He’s got it in his head that he can dig a pool in our backyard like he has seen done on YouTube by those Filipinos who carve magnificent structures in the hard clay of their country. He settled on merely making it deep enough to soak one’s feet, and he decided that he wanted to line the sides and bottom with bamboo.

Yesterday in the time I had between coming home from school and heading back to school to photograph the girls’ soccer game, the boys’ soccer game, and the boys’ baseball game, almost all simultaneously, we went out to the woods behind our house cut down one cane of bamboo and brought it back.

Today, he wanted to split it down the middle. His first idea was to partially bury it in order to stabilize it and then use the saws-all to cut it in half. Knowing that wouldn’t work, I suggested that we use clamps to clamp it to something to stabilize it, and he readily agreed to that. Yet everything we tried initially failed. I say everything “we tried,” but the truth of the matter is he did all the work and I simply sat and directed him.

And this is where my dilemma comes in. I was giving him suggestions, photographing him occasionally as he worked. I could’ve just as easily worked with him. Apparently, I saw more value in him having a little practice following instructions and working things out for himself. Or was this just me making excuses for my laziness?

The Day After Easter

Monday 5 April 2021

A bit of relaxation in the morning.

A little exploration in the afternoon.

A little soccer in the evening.