Ed has been showing his first grade stripes lately. Maneuvering between lunch with other 7-year old boys and dinner the fam has been messy: Ed forgets silverware, tips on his chair, makes armpit noises, and engages in other such behavior. I am not so old that I have forgotten grade school humor — it's just that I never "got" grade-school boy humor then, so I'm having a difficult time appreciating it now. Another thing -- and this thing I have no trouble remembering...what it means to deal with other kids in elementary school. Now, Eddie is a nice kid. A really nice kid. So nice that I think other kids take advantage of him. I think he laughs it off -- maybe blinks away tears -- but brushes himself up and turns the other cheek. But, he comes home and takes it out on his brother. Bob gets pushed, yelled at, and (at worst) ignored by Ed. Ed disdain directed at Bob is particularly hard for me to watch — it physically pains me to watch one boy hurt the other. As a result, my patience with Eddie has been thin lately, even though I know that he comes by his emotions honestly.
So... tonight we read a book together and I suggested The Clown of God. It's been on Ed's shelf for years and I've avoided it. It begins with an orphan boy sleeping in doorways and ends with a old man dead a the foot of a statue of Jesus. A beautiful story, but pretty intense. I thought Eddie needed a good story tonight -- one that was well told and one he hadn't heard before. I'm reading the story and Eddie is silent (aside from the deep nasal breathing he and Bob do when they're concentraing on something.) The end comes, the clown dies, the Christ-child smiles, and Ed leans over to wipe the tears on my cheek. He tries to talk, but he's pretty chocked-up.
I didn't read him the book to make him cry. Honest. I read him the book to make him feel something beyond himself — something beyond goofiness. To remind him (and definitely me) there is always more than what we see.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Appreciating the Kindness of Strangers
Three times in the past two weeks. Three times when complete strangers went out of their way to do something earnestly good.
One night, a free coffee at Starbucks when I forgot my wallet — and would you believe it, this is the least of the list. Second — I bike to work at the U. I leave my van at St. Mark's, meander along River Road and end up just outside my building on Church and Washington. Probably a twenty-minute ride. I pull in to the bike rack last week to realize that I left my lock behind in the van. I can't really go back as I'd probably be late for class. As I'm about to take my chances stashing my bike in the building, someone I've never met offers to share his combination lock with me. Out of the blue. He says, "It's happened to me sooo many times. I'll be here 'till 9 tonight. No big deal." My students, when hearing this, asserted that my bike was "so gone." It wasn't. And wait until they hear the next tale. Today, biking to pick up Eddie at school after work. I'm running late, cross Cleveland only to lose my chain. Broken. I have a few more blocks to go. So I run — with greasy chain and heavy bag. Someone -- Nora she said later — pulls up next to me on her bike and asks if I need help. I explain the situation and she offers me her bike saying, "I'm not in a hurry at all." So, this nice person pushes my broken bike four blocks while I take off to St. Mark's on hers. We swap in the playground. Quite something.
I'm resisting a moral to these stories because I don't know if there's a lesson to be learned or just something to know. To know that the world is really a good place, filled with good people who do good things for each other. Or maybe it's just the urban utopia that is St. Paul, I don't know...
One night, a free coffee at Starbucks when I forgot my wallet — and would you believe it, this is the least of the list. Second — I bike to work at the U. I leave my van at St. Mark's, meander along River Road and end up just outside my building on Church and Washington. Probably a twenty-minute ride. I pull in to the bike rack last week to realize that I left my lock behind in the van. I can't really go back as I'd probably be late for class. As I'm about to take my chances stashing my bike in the building, someone I've never met offers to share his combination lock with me. Out of the blue. He says, "It's happened to me sooo many times. I'll be here 'till 9 tonight. No big deal." My students, when hearing this, asserted that my bike was "so gone." It wasn't. And wait until they hear the next tale. Today, biking to pick up Eddie at school after work. I'm running late, cross Cleveland only to lose my chain. Broken. I have a few more blocks to go. So I run — with greasy chain and heavy bag. Someone -- Nora she said later — pulls up next to me on her bike and asks if I need help. I explain the situation and she offers me her bike saying, "I'm not in a hurry at all." So, this nice person pushes my broken bike four blocks while I take off to St. Mark's on hers. We swap in the playground. Quite something.
I'm resisting a moral to these stories because I don't know if there's a lesson to be learned or just something to know. To know that the world is really a good place, filled with good people who do good things for each other. Or maybe it's just the urban utopia that is St. Paul, I don't know...
Friday, May 1, 2009
Bill Wins
A shout-out to my brother-in-law Bill. He never ceases to impress and amuse me.
So...the first movie I watched on our brand-new VCR was Raiders of the Lost Ark (quickly followed by a copy of Fletch.) I remember going around and imitating the Marian/Nazi part for whomever would listen: "Let me tell you what I am used to...Fraulein..." But I had nothing on my nephew Danny, age 3 1/2 (complete with creepy breathing and volume variation>)
So...the first movie I watched on our brand-new VCR was Raiders of the Lost Ark (quickly followed by a copy of Fletch.) I remember going around and imitating the Marian/Nazi part for whomever would listen: "Let me tell you what I am used to...Fraulein..." But I had nothing on my nephew Danny, age 3 1/2 (complete with creepy breathing and volume variation>)
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