18.46 km, 767 m elevation gain.
Pinnacle Mountain
the boy
Game Night
Family game nights are rare these days. They hit a peak during the Covid lockdown, I think, and then as everything slowly returned to a semblance of normalcy, our evenings filled back up with obligations and promises.
Tonight, though, we played a game.
One evening, it will be the last time we play a family game with everyone at home. Will we know it’s the last?
Side-note: My most recent musical discovery
Evening Walk
While the Boy was at soccer practice, I took my normal walk…
Basketball Practice
The Boy is playing basketball with his church team again this winter. This year, he moves up into a much wider age bracket — middle school players. So there’s up to a two-year difference between the boys on the team.
He looks much better than he did this time last year, but he’s still unsure of where to go, what to do — how to play the game. The other boys are aware of his inexperience as well: there’s a wide range of skill levels on the team. And of course, the Boy is aware that they are aware. I find myself wondering how this affects his self-confidence in the game. He said nothing about it on the drive back home this evening, and that’s a good sign. Still, we have to start going back to the Y for practice again.
Steve Hackett Live
It’s something D and I have wanted to experience since we were just a little older than the Boy: a live performance of old Genesis music, in this case, the entirety of Foxtrot, which includes their magnum opus, the 23-minute “Supper’s Ready.”
The whole show was amazing — but I obviously didn’t film the whole thing…
Coming Home
The Girl was heading out to Target.
“I want to go, too!” the Boy exclaimed.
What was going to be the reaction? She’s often reticent to take him anywhere, but surprisingly she simply said, “Well, you can come with me.”
So our children went clothes shopping alone.
Soccer Evening
Blue Ridge Parkway
Practice
When the Girl decided she wanted to play volleyball, when she tried out for the team as a sixth grader and didn’t make it, when she became really determined, she’d come ask me, “Padre” (She’d started calling me that by then) “can we go out to the front yard and practice volleyball?” I’d toss her balls, simulate spikes, help her practice running for balls — all the basic skills someone of my eager volleyball means could help with given our lack of a net.
At some point, she asked me for the last time to go help her practice. I didn’t realize it was the last time she would ask me, and to be honest, I don’t know if I even agreed to it. She might have asked, and I might have made some kind of excuse. Or maybe we went and practiced one last time.
She hasn’t asked me to do that in years now. She probably never will again. The last time, passed without knowing, fully past with complete knowledge.
So when the Boy asked if, instead of swimming tonight, we could practice basketball, I agreed. I didn’t really want to: I wanted to get some serious exercise in the pool. But he’s that age: how many more times will he ask? When will be the last time?
The Boy Returns
Our first camping trip with scouts was exactly six years ago this weekend — I didn’t know that until I checked the way-back machine at the bottom of the page. I was with the Boy during that trip, and I made sure he kept warm. And there was no rain, so keeping dry was a simple issue.
This weekend he was alone, and I had no idea how it would go. We went about our weekend, including a lovely walk this morning, as if everything had gone perfectly.
Still, the questions from Friday’s post lingered in our heads:
Did we prepare him well enough? Is he going to keep warm and dry this evening? Will he accidentally put his pack up against the wall of the tent and get his stuff wet? There’s no way to know until Sunday.
“Camping“
And so today, we found out.
“Did we prepare him well enough?” No, not really. We didn’t send him with a tarp to put under his tent, so he had to bunk with two other boys, crammed into their tent.
“Is he going to keep warm and dry this evening?” Most definitely not: the tent leaked.
“Will he accidentally put his pack up against the wall of the tent and get his stuff wet?” No, he didn’t do that, but the tent leaked badly enough that almost all his clothes got wet, so he was stuck with one tee-shirt and a pair of shorts for the rest of the trip.
But did he have fun? Most definitely.
“Did you want to give up?” we asked him.
“Yes, that first morning.” But after he and the boys he bunked with hiked back to the cars with one of the adults to get a spare tent and take back all their wet stuff — which was almost everything — things were fine.
Fine, but tiring — which you can see from the picture of his return:
Once we got home, and he took a shower and had some warm, tasty home cooking, he settled down with a cup of hot tea to relax for a couple of hours.
Camping
The Boy has headed off on his first solo backpack camping trip. They left today at four, with the plan of hiking about an hour to their first site.
Tomorrow morning, they pack up and head further into the Foothills Trail, camping one more night before heading back Sunday.
And of course, it’s raining there right now. If it’s raining like it is here, it’s a light rain that shouldn’t cause too much trouble.
But it’s rain nonetheless. Did we prepare him well enough? Is he going to keep warm and dry this evening? Will he accidentally put his pack up against the wall of the tent and get his stuff wet? There’s no way to know until Sunday.
Getting Ready for the Trip
The Boy is going on his first solo camping trip this weekend. He and seven other scouts are hiking in to the first site Friday afternoon, getting up Saturday, hiking most of the day, then setting up another site for the night. Sunday, they’ll head back out.
This is not the camping he’s used to, with a car nearby, potable water on tap within walking distance, and the ability to carry whatever kind of food one wants. It’s all dehydrated meals and the like, and filtration for water after his initial supply is gone.
He’s very excited about it.
John Rock
Walk-a-thon
Conestee Sunday
“Let’s go for a walk at Conestee this afternoon,” K suggested after lunch. She and the Boy had gone to church while I stayed home and did school work and the Girl headed off to work, so we hadn’t spent any time together as a family. Yet as is often the case these days, “time with the family” really only means K and I with the Boy.
The Girl, almost 17 now, has her own life: she hangs out with friends, meets them at football games, goes to dances with them, drives them here and there. She has volleyball and work along with her heavy load of AP classes (all four classes she’s taking this semester), which means when she’s home, she’s usually doing homework. Or sleeping.
Soccer
Water Portrait
Lake Day
First Day of Soccer
The Boy played his first two games today: tied the first one.
And in the meantime, two idiots proved themselves to be such.
Fight
The Boy told me about it the moment I walked into the house. “There was a fight at school today. A big fight.” Apparently, two boys got into it during lunch, and it happened right in front of the Boy.
“Were you scared?” I asked.
“Yes!” he replied without hesitation or self-awareness of the fact that such a response would definitely mark him at some schools among some kids. One of those involved was someone E knows, and he was a little worried about what was happening to his friend and a little worried about what might happen him.
“I’m definitely in middle school now,” he concluded.