Sunday, April 26, 2009

Rock Me Amadeus

I had to drag them to a theater showing of Amadeus. They argued with me about the movie, about the trip to Omaha, about classical music, about spending the day with their family, about how they were sure they would be bored.

I didn't even tell them that the movie was 3 hours long.

They weren't bored for a second. They all three loved it. My teen with her shining eyes talking about the costumes and sets, my middle daughter with her scheming look wanting to talk about how Salieri killed Mozart, and my big, strapping son, taller than his older sister, collapsed on a bench in the hall outside the theater crying for Mozart.

"It's ok, Frank," I assured him.

"He gets it from you," Anna and Mary said confidently. They smiled at my own wet cheeks and eyes. "Why did he just get thrown in a hole with other people?" Frank wailed. And I found myself talking with him about poverty and death while we sat on the bench at the theater.

"Mozart just got a few coins for The Magic Flute!" Mary crowed. "If I were him, I would have sold it for a lot more," Mary said confidently. Anna noted, "You know, I don't think the Vaudeville would have had such fancy costumes. I don't think that was realistic." Frank moaned in my arms.

I revisited a familiar theme for me - the curiosity of personality. I study my children and wonder why they react the way they do and wonder about the experience of seeing this movie together and wonder how they will each remember it and how it will affect them. Frank has a deep intuitive approach to the world that I recognize in myself. Does it come from me genetically or just from being around me? The girls have likewise experienced the world with me, but their observations are slightly different than mine.

Next weekend I am attending a writing workshop on Teaching Social Justice Through Writing. I am not a writing teacher, but I am very curious at the idea that we can somehow teach social justice through writing. I would argue that you can't teach the actual sense of social justice. An awareness of social justice, perhaps, but not social justice itself. I am curious to attend the session, though, and I thought about it as I held my son who reacts to humanity in the same way that I do - the heightened sense of justice that my mother saw in me early on. Where did it come from?

"It's ok, Frank," I assured him. "It's just a movie."

"I know. But he really did die poor and get thrown in the ground, didn't he?"

I nodded and began to cry again. I realized that Frank was experiencing a very complex emotional onslaught. He was reacting to a fictional story realizing that it depicted reality, at least to some extent, and realizing the effect of death and poverty. It is overwhelming. I know the feeling. I am the right person and the wrong person to comfort him. We sat in the lobby on a bench and cried as people filed out of the movie talking about music, or like Anna, talking about the costumes and the sets.

Mary slipped her arm around me on the walk to the car. "So do you think that Salieri poisoned him with real poison or just with his mind?" Her twinkly eyes shone as she tried to unravel the conspiracy.

"What do you think?" I asked.

We drove to dinner talking about the movie and continued the conversation through the evening. After Frank and I calmed down, we were able to talk about conspiracy and God and sets and costumes and food.

I am glad I dragged them to the movie in the first place. I knew they would love it. :-)

Saturday, April 25, 2009

Root Beer Floats Sometimes

For our wedding anniversary last summer, Bill and I took the kids to Kansas City to go to a baseball game, which got rained out, so we all went to dinner at Buca di Beppo. We ordered a pitcher of root beer for the kids. When the waiter brought it, he spilled it on my lap. All over my white skirt.

I laughed. The waiter was horrified. He brought me napkins. I soaked up the root beer as best I could. We finished our meal, went for a walk around the Plaza in the rain (with a giant root beer stain on my white skirt), and I took pictures of the kids throwing coins in the fountains until we went back to the hotel. Bill and I later talked about the incident and noted that I am a unique person in that root beer can spill on my white skirt at my anniversary dinner which was supposed to be a baseball game that got rained out and it still doesn't ruin the evening for me.

I am generally an optomistic person. It is work to be that way. I mean, I was upset and embarassed that my skirt was stained brown, and that I didn't get to go to a baseball game and on and on. But I knew that it was not worth it to be upset. That in the long run this did not matter and that I could decide to have a good evening despite a root beer stained skirt. This type of conscious optomism requires energy.

I can't always do it. I get worn down. Lately my reserve of energy has been empty. I did not have it in me this weekend to go on a long trip with my family to go to my brother in law's wedding. I could not do it. I knew that. So I chose to stay home with my kids and sent Bill with his kids. It was not an easy choice to make. We really do feel like a family, and I felt the loss of my family this weekend - most especailly Joe and Amanda who I love. (I am not going to go into the issues in detail here. It is not Bill. Things are actually really good between Bill and myself right now. I just didn't want anyone to assume anything.)

My friends rallied. On Thursday night, my friend Jade came over to hula hoop with me and the kids at sunset. On Friday night, the two Kays from Grand Island, work friends of mine, came over with Indian take out and sat around the table with me and my kids and later that evening my friend Sam showed up with her son Jaevyn and Jade to do home pedicures with me. On Saturday I went to dance class in the morning and took my kids to Omaha in the afternoon. We explored Greek pottery at the Joslyn, went shopping and did a photo booth together, went to Amadeus together and ended the evening at my friend Ann's house where her son grilled me tilapia in the rain at 8pm because that is when I showed up. Ann and I talked as kids played and cooked.

I feel loved and supported and filled with positive energy. If I were a cartoon character, my energy bars would be glowing again. I feel ready to have a root beer dumped on me.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Fundraising

When I was in high school I qualified for Catholic Nationals and my coach, Fred Robertson, made sure that I got to go. (My parents had a lot to do with that, too, but this is about Fred.)

Fred coached speech and debate at Fremont High School for a lot of years. I was fortunate enough to be on his team the second year he coached debate. He is without a doubt, one of the best influences of my high school years. And he remains a voice in my head years and years later. He's that kind of teacher.

When we did practice debate rounds in those years we would go to his house in the weekday evenings where he would critique us in his basement. We would debate justice vs. individual freedom, or whatever, and Fred would give us feedback. The best part was afterwards when we would pump Fred for stories about the pictures on the wall in the basement - him with lots of race horses - he used to help train race horses. Fred would play record albums - our favorite was his Tammy Faye album.

Tonight I got a fundraising request from him for a student who qualified for Nationals in three events and there are some financial issues. Fred assured us that any money would not be bet on his nephew's horse who is running in the Kentucky Derby.

But then I thought, why not? Why not bet the money on the horse in the Kentucky Derby and send the money to Fred for his student? I mean, if you're gonna bet on a horse anyway, put a $20 on Win Willy and send Fred your winnings.

Fred Robertson, 2712 N. 96th Drive, Omaha, NE 68134

The horse is "Win Willy."

Tuesday, April 07, 2009

My Mom Went to Seattle and All I Got Was Fish

I was away for an extended weekend and in that time Mary's DI team qualified for Global Nationals and Anna got the news that she lettered in Theater and was asked to be part of the International Thespian Society.

This calls for a celebration.

It's a good thing that their mom bypassed the tshirts and mugs and magnets at the Seattle Market and got what her kids REALLY love. FISH! An Alaskan Halibut. Just came into season. Filleted and packed in ice for me to bring home on the plane. On my walk back to my hotel I spotted baby cauliflower out of the corner of my eye. As I cuddled the cauliflower, the produce man helpfully told me that he had baby artichokes and baby beets and baby carrots. So I ended up with a bag of fresh baby vegetables as well.

Is it dinnertime yet?