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The Girl on the Funeral

Wednesday 21 April 2010 | 0 Comments

We were sitting in front of the computer, watching the streamed footage of President Kaczynski's state funeral when the Girl began asking questions.

"What happened?"

"The plane fell."

"Why did it fall?"

"There was a lot of fog. They couldn't see."

"It was dark?"

"Yes, it was."

"I know what happened. They forgot their flashlight."

A simple explanation for the tragedy. Later, she asked for clarification.

"Did the whole plane fall?"

"The whole plane fell."

"Did it fall on the road?"

"No, it fell in the forest."

"It's not good to go in the forest with an airplane. It's dark. They can't see."

Photo: "Dark series #12 - the forest rouse" by Xavier Fargas

"You say it's your birthday?" It was tempting to sing the Beatles' birthday to Papa yesterday when he turned forty-something (he was a precocious child). We settled for the old stand-by, in more ways than one.

The first old stand-by: the Girl is the center of attention, even when it's Papa's day.

Even when sisters come to make brother-Papa the center of the day, the Girl manages to charm everyone.

"You, and you, and you -- watch this!"

The second old stand-by: the Girl makes most of the decisions, like who gets to wear the birthday hats and who gets a pass.

Cake is another stand-by, with Happy Birthday New Year candles.

When Papa turned forty-something (the first time, that is), Nana and I tried to put forty-something candles on the cake. It was a Herculean task to get them all lit before the first ones started going out.

"H-A-P-P-Y N-E-W Y-E-A-R" (what are they doing selling New Year's candles in April?) was much easier to light.

And blow out, I'd imagine.

The ultimate, ever-new stand-by: Papa showing Nana that, even on "his" day, she's still the center of his world. (Like the reservoir behind the Three Gorges Dam, though, the Girl puts a little wobble in that orbit. Just a little one.)

Kiss Attack

Friday 16 April 2010 | 0 Comments

The Girl Reads

Wednesday 14 April 2010 | 1 Comment

“Big” Saturday

Saturday 03 April 2010 | 1 Comment

Holy Saturday in Polish is "Wielka Sobota", which translates to "Great Saturday" (though not "great" as a synonym for "fantastic"). It's the final day of preparation for Wielkanoc, which translates to "Great Night." But nestled in the hustle and chaos of cooking, cleaning, ironing, and fretting is a great (in this case, synonymous with "fantastic") tradition: the blessing of the Easter baskets.

Dressed in the traditional outfits of Podhale and armed with two baskets overflowing with food for Easter breakfast, we headed to the church early in order to get our obligatory Easter family portrait.

When we entered the church, the Girl was fascinated: so many baskets, so many colored eggs -- which to choose? Only a quick eye and a quicker hand kept the Girl from pillaging and plundering.

The baskets tell another story, though. The church wasn't filled, but there were enough pockets of English conversation in the generally Polish-expat crowd that it became obvious that others see the value and beauty of this tradition.

The priest, Father Theo, certainly likes the tradition. He positively beamed as he spoke, and the joy of his kind embrace of the tradition was infectious.

So contagious was his joy that he managed to talk a young lady into coming up to read the passage about the Passover tradition. No practice, no warning, just a kind smile and a compliment about her dress.

Another kind word and all the kids in traditional costumes joined Father Theo.

After the blessing, it was a free-for-all,

on both sides of the lenses. As I was taking a picture, I felt the crowd gathering about me. I realized the real picture was about ten steps behind me.

Shortly thereafter, the shot was about twenty steps in front of me.

And when you're carrying around a large DSLR, everyone asks you for a picture.

Then again, Father Theo has good reason: his camera is a Canon that lacks a screen on the back and, rumor has it, records the pictures on a thin plastic film. I don't believe it myself, but I can attest to the camera's lack of a LCD screen. How in the world does he preview his pictures?

How does he know, for example, that some outside shots need a little over-exposure?

How would he'd managed to slide his hand back into his pocket, concealing the remote shutter release?

Or know that he'd captured the petals of spring blossoms falling snow?

Or be sure that he's caught the conference of Polish women?

"Nonsense!" the Girl would declare. "All that matters is the tree I see the boys climbing and my first chance to try it for myself." With a nervous father always close at hand.

In the end, the best that could be said about such a busy day can't be said with words.

Happy Almost-Easter to all.

Posted

Thursday 01 April 2010 | 0 Comments

"No trespassing," he said. "It's posted no trespassing."

I'd ridden my bike over to a construction area to snap some shots of the site.

It turned out that I wasn't the only one curious: a family was cycling here and there, just as intrigued as I was. They bumped their way down a staircase, and the girl called out "Hello, fellow biker!" as she rode below.

A security guard emerged from one of the buildings, followed the family down the steps, said something, and left. It was all very civil. They wandered about for a while longer before they left, so I don't know what he said, but it seems obvious that it wasn't, "Get out now!"

Since I was in the area, I decided to cycle on over to the Mystery Building: a long structure that had the air of a conference center but was eternally empty.

It was as I was leaving that I had my encounter with the security guard -- different site, different bloke. This one was driving a battered Ford that appeared to date from the late '80s. He waved at me as he approached, so I stopped.

"No trespassing. It's posted. You can't ride a bike here." He said it as if I were riding into a wedding reception: full of indignation, shocked that I would even consider pedaling through the parking lot.

Many possible replies ran through my head, most of them sarcastic.

I "can't" ride my bike here? Well, clearly I can, because I'm doing it. Perhaps you meant to say, "You're not permitted..."
There was no "No Trespassing" sign at the entrance; therefore, it's not "posted."
(Ignore him and ride on.)
Rats! This was my absolutely favorite place to ride.
Can you hold that pose for a moment. I want to get a picture for my blog.

It's amazing how quickly I end up sounding like my students. Yet I managed to control myself and simply say, "Okay."

The security guard drove off, stopping again to talk to a woman walking through the parking lot. For my part, I stopped to look carefully -- oh so carefully -- for a tell-tale sign. Nothing.

I ended the short ride at the new Clemson University International Center for Automotive Research facility.

I don't know how occupied it currently is, but they have parking for a lot of cars...

Which I guess is somehow appropriate.

Two Recent Portraits

Sunday 21 March 2010 | 1 Comment

Inevitable

Thursday 18 March 2010 | 0 Comments

It's a nightly occurrence: a few minutes after we put the Girl to bed, she calls one of us. It's usually "Mama!"

We take turns answering the call, and L doesn't seem to matter who responds.

"Yes, sweetheart," I say as I open the door, and I immediately one of several possible answers. Sometimes it's just a fragment of a story she remembered; sometimes it's something straight from her imagination. It could be that she needs juice or that she wants to rock with me in the rocking chair for a moment. Occasionally she's not pleased with the sleeping music.

"Yes, L," I say tonight as I enter her room.

"We didn't rock," she replies calmly.

I take her out of her bed and sit with her own my lap. Usually she's a little squirmy. Tonight she's too tired to squirm.

Out of the blue, she opens the age-old conversation: "Tata, I don't want to grow up."

"You don't have a choice. None of us do." I think this, but I certainly don't say it. Instead, I simply ask her if she likes being three.

"Yes," she says quietly. She snuggles a little closer, pauses, and leaves me speechless, whispering, "Three's easy."

Handmade

Wednesday 17 March 2010 | 1 Comment

While Babcia was here, she kept busy. Luckily for us (or should I say "Luckily for L"), the way she usually keeps busy is through crotchet. Her visit gave Babcia just enough time to make a dress and cap for the girl.

Let’s Go Fly A Kite

Monday 15 March 2010 | 1 Comment

March is a month for kite flying. Though I rarely flew kites, it was always a favorite pastime for me as a kid. Perhaps it's the indirect flying. We introduced kite flying to the Girl this weekend, much to her excitement.

When shopping for our kite, there was only one criterion: there must be a princess on it.

"I'm not a _____! I'm a princess!" L is fond of saying these days. In the blank can be just about anything, even "little girl" (or "big girl" for that matter). Once the princess kite was assembled