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Sunday Downtown

Sunday 11 November 2012 | 0 Comments

We never made it to Falls Park during our walk yesterday, so the family decided to start there today. I would have guessed, were someone to ask me, that we were too late to get much of an autumnal view, but I was happily mistaken.

This time, though, we took the whole family, including our one-and-a-half tooth Wonder Boy who seems willing to smile at just about anything.

The Boy's smile probably had something to do with my wiggling fingers and silly face, but with colors like this, though, who could resist a smile?

As we headed into the main downtown area of the park, the sun came out fully and consistently, making the Peace Center glow. We, though, were less glowing, especially the Girl, who had by then adopted an all-too-familiar refrain: "I'm hungry."

Nothing is quite as filling on a fall day as an ice cream cone,

and it never tastes as better than when outside. Or so someone told me.

Final Day

Thursday 09 August 2012 | 0 Comments

The final day at Lake Tillery also included a boat ride, with the girls sitting in the back singing Polish Christmas carols as the Boy slept.

The destination: "Big Bridge," a name that sounds just like something a three- or four-year-old would name a bridge that is rather large. Sort of like Big Wolf. (He still sleeps with the Girl every night. "He keeps me calm," she once explained.)

Of course, there was one last swim...

First

Wednesday 08 August 2012 | 2 Comments

Nana and Papa certainly have the picture somewhere: I stand by my uncle's pond, rod and reel in hand, with a small fish on the line. I must have been four, maybe five. The rod and reel seemed impossibly heavy, and I thought the photographer -- my uncle? mother? -- would never snap the picture.

So I think I can understand the Girl's frustration with me as I maneuvered for picture after picture of her first fish.

Boat Ride Bookends, Part Two

Tuesday 07 August 2012 | 1 Comment

After the boat ride and swimming, we were shocked suddenly to discover it was lunch time. And once lunch was over, we were shocked at how tired the kids were -- except the two youngest.

But soon after, everyone was rested and the water called us back again. The little puppy running around the lakefront -- dubbed Cutie by the kids -- was quite an attraction, too. In fact, more so in many ways. Even when the puppy wasn't there, they played as if sheÂ were there. "We must find Cutie!" L cried out, fishing for her with a bit of line and a magnet. "SheÂ must have fallen in!"

But she hadn't -- we were the only ones to fall in. Make that jump in -- the Girl's newest water obsession.

Meanwhile, the youngest looked on and ate an early dinner.

With a twelve-week-old, our schedule is his schedule. "He ate at three," K begins, figuring the next feeding time and its impact on our less-than-tight schedule. Sometimes that's a challenge; at the lake, it was inconsequential. After all, how many vacations run on a tight schedule? Well, scratch that: I know some who run their vacations like boot camp.

Evening came and we decided on another boat ride. The Boy took it all in stride: his expression consistently said, "Oh well, here we go again. This should be fun..."

And it was for some of us. L got to drive a boat for the first time. It was a carefree frolic for her. No stress; no worries, no fear.

We returned to find brilliance.

Brilliance that shifted.

Boat Ride Bookends, Part One

Monday 06 August 2012 | 1 Comment

Day two at Lake Tillery began and ended with a boat ride. “I’ve never been on a boat,” L announced in excitement, obviously having forgotten earlier rides in Slovakia.

Yet it was certainly the Boy’s first boat ride, the first time we bundled him up in a life jacket.

“L would not have put up with this for a moment,” K laughed as we pulled out of the channel into the lake. The Boy, though, simply snuggled into the jacket and fell asleep.

Had he known who was driving, he might not have been quite so calm. L’s best friend from Montessori, E, was at the wheel, his father at his side, doing a fine job despite the jokes.

Pulling into the dock of E’s aunt, K immediately loosened the Boy’s life jacket and found a place for him to continue his apparently eternal nap.

The Girl took a quick break, and upon waking, the Boy joined his mother in the lake with his newest friends.

Afternoon at the Lake

Sunday 05 August 2012 | 0 Comments

L has fallen in love with water this summer. Among her favorite sports to watch in London are swimming and diving; she asks daily to go to the pool; she flops about in the tub in her best imitation of Rebecca Soni. Despite her consistent love of water, though, she wasn't that wild about the beach when we first went. Or when we went the second time. So when we headed to North Carolina with friends for a weekend at the lake, I was a but curious how she would take swimming in the open water.

As might be expected, she was a bit cautions at first. Thought she'd given up her arm floats earlier in the summer, she learned that one of the rules of the pier was that children must always wear flotation devices -- and since there were no more swim belts, the Girl was stuck wearing her arm floats again.

There was also initial concern regarding what else might be swimming with her -- or under her. Talk of an enormous catfish that broke a line earlier in the day had her worried and sitting on the edge for a while.

But only for a while.

Thus began a weekend of firsts. Fishing, for example -- something that requires more patience than I thought the Girl had ever shown in her whole life. Something that involves touching things the Girl might not like to touch, like hooks and worms and fish. Something that can pass hours with only one reward: the peace of the wait.

Yet the girl is growing, and she's always surprising us with what she can do, what she's willing to try, what we can force her to eat. (Some humor intended there.) Fishing became the big hit for the Girl.

Yet there were the old stand-bys -- what kid in history has been able to turn down an invitation to watch a film while sitting in an old water heater box?

Cramped, stuffy, view-blocking -- it didn't matter. What mattered was to beÂ in the box. The movie was only secondary entertainment.

With a full moon that night, though, adults had other forms of less-cramped, more serene entertainment.

Downtown Rock Hill, Part 2

Thursday 02 August 2012 | 2 Comments

Is downtown Rock Hill is the story of America? One would certainly hope not, but in some ways, it seems to have all the elements in parallel. Within a couple of blocks we have signs of incredible affluence

and poverty-driven decay.

What's the difference between these two homes? What's the difference between the owners of these homes? Over the last few years, my explanations have shifted from the left to the center-right of the political spectrum. The answer seems hinted in other parts of town.

Still only a few blocks away, Nana points out yet another building with personal significance: the remains of Rock Hill Printing & Finishing. "This was where I was working when I met Papa," she explains to us. She shows us where she used to enter, pointing out roughly where her desk was.

One wonders if there are any plans to renovate this particular building as others in the area. Just up the road, an old factory has been turned into an apartment complex. One could likely turn this shell into high-ceiling lofts or something similar. But is the demand there? I think back to the abandoned post office just a few blocks away, figuring it's unlikely that this gigantic building will ever become of anything more than the subject of a blog post.

Just behind it lies the heart of the factory, once impressive, but now merely tragic. According to one source,

The building of the Rock Hill Printing and Finishing Plant in 1929 moved M. Lowenstein halfway along the way to becoming a totally integrated producer of textiles. The Rock Hill plant bleached, dyed, printed and finished cloth purchased from a variety of sources, primarily in the South. The rapid expansion of Lowenstein through the acquisition of textile mills produced the raw material for the plant and resulted in its own expansion. By the early 1960s, it grew from a plant with 200,000 square feet to one with more than 2 million square feet, which bleached, dyed, and finished both cotton and synthetic fabrics. New processes such as Sanforizing and the use of Scotchgard TM finishing permitted it to create permanent press cloth during the 1970s. Acquired by Springs Industries in 1986, the plant included 23 roller print machines and 7 screen print machines. (textilehistory.org)

Looking at an aerial view of the factory in its heyday, it's clear the impact its closure had on the economics of Rock Hill. Now, only inspiration remains.

This is the story of South Carolina, a story that hopefully America as a whole will not echo. But I wonder. South Carolina used to be a textile center. My family's fate was tied into that of the mills. My mother worked in a mill; my grandmother worked in a mill; countless aunts worked in mills. My father did electrical work in mills; my grandfather likely did masonry work for a mill or two. Every South Carolinian has mill work somewhere in her family history.

The cemetery just a block or so away is surely filled with those who worked the roller print machines and the bleaching machines, with those who did the screen printing and counted the cost of everything.

Rock Hill is only one of many textile cities in South Carolina that has suffered this fate. It's only one of thousands of cities in America that must be harboring doubts that its best days lie in the future.

Downtown Rock Hill, Part 1

Monday 30 July 2012 | 0 Comments

Visits to Rock Hill are visits to family. Only rarely is anything else involved. But every now and then, we go beyond the normal visit schedule. This week, we went downtown to visit the children's museum. After the visit and a quick lunch, we went for a quick walk.

Like many old, small downtown areas, Rock Hill's small main street is both heartening and depressing.

On the heartening side, it's good to see so many beautiful, historic buildings renovated and put to new use. A Baptist church is now a community center.

Yet the renaissance is only partial, as it often is. Across the street from the restored church is an abandoned post office that stands empty. What are the possibilities? Certainly endless, but the economy places its own limitations, I suppose.

Just down the street, more evidence of a halting recovering for the downtown area.

Yet perhaps things are not as they seem. A quick search reveals that Penny Young still runs a studio by the name Photographic Designs. Perhaps she outgrew the space?

Still, one has to admire the effort and the little touches, like the music in the trees, initially confusing as one wanders about,

and the little cafes with outside tables that would be more inviting if it weren't for the heat of a South Carolina summer.

As we walked, though, we weren't as interested in what is happening in 2012; we were more interested in what was happening in the early 1950's when Papa was a kid.

"Here's where we had our high school Bucket of Lard sermon," he explained, with typical sarcasm, pointing to a church just meters away from the renovated church/community center. Who knew there were so many churches in downtown Rock Hill?

Another church, just down the street, was the sight of a run-in with the police. "We were roaring down the street on our skates -- and these were those skates you strapped onto the bottom of your shoes and tighten with the key you kept hung round your neck -- and the officer comes running out to us, furious. 'Don't you boys know there's a funeral going on in there?'" One can only imagine the noise several boys on metal-wheeled skates.

Still, it wasn't all amusing stories. Some were touching.

At the coveted location of the prestigious Dee & Lee Unique Hair Design, there was once a jewelry store. The large display windows are now virtually empty, though one can imagine them filled with bracelets, earrings, necklaces, and rings of gold and silver, all glittering enticingly.

The significance is likely obvious: "This is where I bought Nana's engagement ring," he explained as we passed by. It was a photo op one couldn't pass up: a happy couple standing in front of a hair salon -- a picture that contains a secret history.

The Return to Reality

Monday 02 January 2012 | 0 Comments

The return after a long break is both nerve-wracking and refreshing. The former comes from the unpredictability of fourteen-year-olds. The latter is a simple function of having a long period away from each other. As much as I like my students, it's good to be away from them from time to time -- to be around adults more than kids. (Well, having a five-year-old daughter, I'm not sure how much that's really possible.)

For everyone today -- teachers and students -- it seemed the "refreshing" won out. Far from being reluctant to return to studies, many students seemed positively eager to come back -- at least that was the feeling I got in my classes.

It was a good Monday, and often can one say that, especially after a long break?

Another Return To Table Rock, Redux

Monday 22 August 2011 | 1 Comment

There's a great trail along the stream and up the side of a mountain that's just right for short legs.

There's a fun swimming hole. There are tadpoles squirting about, drawing undue attention to themselves from would-be harassers.

There's a cooling waterfall with which L becomes more and more courageous. (The corollaries to this is a new ability to put her face in the water and a develop preference of showering over bathing.)