Talk When You Can

I was in my home office drinking coffee when I heard the front door slam at 6:45am. I knew that it was Anna walking to the bus stop, and I put down my mug and took off after her.

There is major street construction going on in Lincoln, and that means that there are major detours going on. The city bus that usually stops just a half block from our house, now stops about six blocks from our house. The first time she met the bus on the detour, I walked with her and made sure that we had the detour schedule and route correctly and that she made it onto the bus in time to get to school. I discovered that six blocks is the perfect amount of time to spend with a teenager. So every morning I have been leaving with her and walking with her to the bus stop.

I didn't want to miss that time this morning.

"Hey!" I called, as I jogged across the street. She rolled her eyes a bit, but she did take the earbud headphones out and sure enough, a couple of strides into the next block she started talking - about her new friends at school, her classes, and the callbacks for the fall play. I waved goodbye when we got to her stop and I jogged back to the house thinking of all the things that I needed to do - breakfast and bathe and pack lunches for Mary and Frank - but I was very glad that I took the time to do something that I didn't need to do, but in some ways needed to do the most.

This window between child and adult is brief and painful for everyone. I think of her the way I last saw her this morning. Smiling at me over her shoulder and looking away. Putting her music back in her head. Getting on the bus and going away.

12 Cassettes for One Cent

The first album I ever bought on my own was Michael Jackson's "Thriller." I used my paper route money. I rode my bike to the TG&Y by the mall and bought the record, which I played over and over. Shortly thereafter I subscribed to Columbia House and with the freedom that comes from lots of cheap music, I branched out and tried all kinds of stuff. And I remember the suggestions. "Do you like REM? Then you might like U2," Columbia House suggested. I bought all four of their albums without hearing as much as a sample. I listened to music over and over on my yellow Sony cassette Walkman as I walked around town to the library or school or delivering papers.

Anyway, I thought of those days this morning as I sampled and bought music on itunes. I have a couple of sites that I follow for suggestions and I like it that I can listen to the music before buying it. Sometimes I buy albums, but I have also succumbed to the trend of buying one song or two songs, but not the whole album. And I like it that itunes suggests songs for me. It's a great way to find new music. (Though nothing will ever top the colossal recommendation of U2 since I liked REM. And it's not as if I still listen to their stuff, but it was just important music for me for a long time. It felt like they knew what was in my 15 year old girl in Nebraska's head, like THAT makes sense. I think everyone has one of those life changing band moment things.)

So. Two new play lists came from some new music. One is for hooping and the other is for my new dance class. And in my case, the girl who "likes U2 and REM" turned into a woman who "likes electronic Balkan music." Music recommendation is an art and not a science.

For the Maps

Years ago I went to a locally produced play in a small venue. The characters were stranded because of car trouble.

"Here, use my AAA membership and call for a tow," one of the characters said.

"Why do you have AAA? You don't have a car and you don't drive."

"It's for the maps," said the first character in total deadpan.

I started laughing so hard I nearly fell out of my chair. I laughed so hard that the actors paused and tried to not react to my reaction. I laughed so hard that the playwright came over at the end of the play and introduced himself.

This summer I have called AAA because I locked the keys in my car and we called AAA when we hit a deer and needed a tow. And when our camping trip plans fell apart from a combination of heat advisory and thunderstorm warnings, I went to AAA for maps. Just as the play referenced, a AAA membership means that you can walk into the AAA office and get free maps to anywhere. "Iowa, Nebraska and South Dakota, please," I said, not knowing where we were going. On a lark we headed North to Lewis and Clark Lake in South Dakota.

"What time do you expect to arrive?" the campground manager asked when I called to reserve a camper cabin.

"Um..." I thought of myself and the four kids driving North with a loaded down car.

We meandered North to South Dakota. I taught the kids to use the AAA Guide to find fun things to do along the way. We stopped to see the John Neihardt Center in Walthill. We stopped to meet the Winnebago on the Reservation and talked about what it means to be a Sovereign Nation. We got ice cream in Fremont at the Zestos of my teen years and toured the May Museum. It was the kind of vacation where we were all happy on the beach so we stayed until dark, and then we couldn't get the campfire to start so we went to a restaurant, and when the restaurant on the lake was closed we went to one in town and found a diner that was open all night. And we were happy. When we stopped at the Winnebago Reservation on the way home and they asked us if we were there for the Jingle Dance Lessons, we said "yes," even though we didn't know about them until we showed up. Mary and Sophia learned how to dance at a pow wow. Frank and I found the Joba Chamberlain Shrine.

It was not a perfect vacation and there were small tantrums, but the success of a vacation is judged in my opinion by the pace and the memories - those, in my opinion, were a success.

We couldn't have done it without the maps.