What Goes Around Comes Around

I thought it was cool when my nephew asked for a turn table for Christmas last year. I had heard vague things about a renaissance of vinyl records and that just seemed like so much more proof. For his birthday today, we got him the new Wilco album on vinyl.

I remember when I bought my first CD. It was 25 years ago, and I loved how compact it was and how clear the sound was. I loved the whirring of the CD player, the way the tray opened and closed at the touch of the button. By comparison to that clean plastic case and shiny disc, my records and their cardboard covers seemed heavy, dusty, and old-fashioned. Within ten years the turntables were gone from our stereo cabinet and all the vinyl was in the basement.

But vinyl's decline was only temporary. It seems that most audiophiles actually prefer the quality of sound on a vinyl recording. Pair that with the convenience of mp3 recordings, and it turns out that it is now the CD which is endangered.

It was funny to see a wrapped LP today for the first time in at least 30 years. It used to be such a tell-tale package. "But you don't know which album it is," we would always say, "so it's still a surprise."

Nobody at the family birthday dinner tonight seemed to recognize the shape when we brought it in, though, even though I jokingly told everyone it was a calendar. "You don't know what year it is," I added, "so it will still be a surprise." They didn't really get it, but when Treat opened the gift, he was pleased.

The older folks among us started gushing about how much better the artwork was on a larger scale and how great it was to have all the words to the songs printed inside. My sister-in-law told us that at first, Treat wasn't sure where to put the needle to play an album. How would he? And in his own defense, he shrugged and pointed out that records are round, they don't really have a starting place.

"You know you can put the needle down on any track you want, though, right?" I asked. "You just look at the fat lines." He didn't know what I was talking about, and started to open the album to see. There followed a lot of direction about the best way to pull a record from the sleeve and the best way to hold it once it's out. All that audio etiquette that went out with the CD player is suddenly relevant again. Not only that, there's a whole skill set that almost skipped a generation. Fortunately? My nephew's a smart kid, so I'm sure he'll be able to spin a disc in no time.

Continuing Education

Today my friend and colleague Ellen and I went to a presentation at our local chapter of the National Writing Project Summer Institute. We are both Teacher Consultants, having gone through the 5 week SI ourselves-- me five years ago, and Ellen 12 years ago.

The presentation this morning was given by a dynamic young teacher and was on the topic of writing profiles with your students. I was especially interested, because I tried this genre for the first time just last month at the end of the school year, and I was very pleased with the results.

It was cool to hear how someone else taught it-- her approach was much more involved and well-developed-- but what was even cooler, both Ellen and I agreed, was to be surrounded by teachers with the same frame of mind about writing and teaching and teaching writing. The NWP is all about engaging, student-centered instruction, authentic writing, and writing to learn as well as learning to write. For example, one of the themes of today's presentation was using writing to give voice to ordinary people and uncovering, recognizing, and celebrating the extraordinary in all of us.

As we walked back to our car, we both wondered what it might be like if everyone taught that way, and we were both baffled as to why they don't.

Spoiled

Here's the thing about being off in the summer. Unlike during the school year where weekends are precious and never long enough, and you try to cram in as many errands and as much fun and relaxation as possible, now weekends seem needlessly crowded with all those workaday folks by the pool, in the store, at the movies, or on the trails. In fact, one quickly adjusts and replans most activities to take advantage of that midweek downtime. It only seems right to spread out the usage and patronize the off hours.

Someone's gotta do it.

Venius

Heidi is always super-appreciative to any who will listen about the vegan cooking I do for her, but I have to confess that I may be totally starting to believe my own press about it. Plus, I like the challenge of it! Today? Breakfast was light and crispy waffles, Carolina peaches, toasted walnuts, and maple syrup. For lunch? Spelt spaghetti with a lemon-basil marinara and a zesty green olive, caper, toasted almond, and nutritional yeast topping. Dinner was beer-battered zucchini finger tacos with lime slaw and roasted corn, tomato and avocado salad.

I'm sayin!

Planet of the Burgers

Today was a classic summer vacation day around here. I spent a few hours at the garden this morning, weeding watering and pruning and harvesting 20 pounds of humongous zucchini and yellow squash, then it was time for lunch.

In these tough economic times, the humble hamburger has become king. Steak houses might be fewer and fewer, but there are at least a half-dozen high end burger joints within a five mile radius. With this in mind, I proposed a summer project to my three teenaged nephews: Let's find the best darn burger in the area. The rules are simple, but evolving. They must have a veggie burger for Heidi, and we will rate them on their burgers, buns, sauces, and of course fries. We will consider service and decor, beverages and music, but they will only be deciding factors in case of a tie.

Our beta burger review took place today at a branch of the chain BGR. The burgers were huge (too huge, even for the boys) and juicy (too juicy-- our buns became soggy, because Treat didn't tell us until half-way through to turn the sandwich over when you get it) and the servings of hot hot hot crispy crispy fries were more than generous. Heidi liked the molasses in her veggie burger (it gave it a smoky BBQ note), but it was a tad too sweet. We may have to take a day or two off before our next stop.

After that, what else? A movie. We saw Super 8, and it was very satisfying. Before the show, though, they previewed the new Planet of the Apes prequel, and Josh was intrigued. He had no idea it was part of a classic franchise, so when we got home I promptly downloaded both the 1968 original (yes, Charleton Heston, pre-NRA, and younger than I am now) and the 2001 Tim Burton re-make with Marky-Mark and Helena Bonham Carter. We watched the first, and I would have totally double featured it, but after such a fun-filled day, it's a little too late tonight.

Fortunately, we have time.

In Season

When I was four we moved to a house that had a peach tree in the backyard, and so summer mornings meant padding outside barefoot in our pajamas to choose a perfectly ripe peach to eat, warm and juicy, for breakfast. A couple years later blight forced my parents to take the tree down, but to be honest, I mourn it still.

Peaches are the one fruit that I refuse to buy out of season. The apple is admirable in its longevity, berries and asparagus from South America, while not preferable, are edible, and I can even work with those hard greenish tomatoes, but crunchy winter, sour spring, or mealy fall peaches? No thank you.

Today on our trip north from Atlanta, we made a peach pit stop. It's usually easy to pass those well-advertised places by, knowing that most of the their inventory is limited to pickled peaches, peach preserves, peach cider, and peach pecan syrup, but early July in South Carolina? Irresistible! We bought a big basket of small freestone peaches and placed them carefully on the backseat so that for the next 450 miles the scent of fresh peaches occasionally drifted up front. When we stopped for gas, I ate two, standing in the warm evening air and dripping sweet juice onto the pavement, and well-sustained and very satisfied, I drove the rest of the way home.

It's Relative

Age difference can be a tricky thing. Whether we are considering siblings, students in a grade, friends, or spouses, a couple or twelve years can definitely shape the relationship. What makes things interesting is that usual complicating variable-- relativity, particularly of the human kind. There is no recipe for perfection, and any age difference can work for or against you. My father was one of eight siblings in his family; there were seven boys and one sister; he was the second youngest, she was the second oldest, and yet, as adults, they were closest to each other.

Who knows why? Certainly, as we get older, age differences that once seemed insurmountable become much more workable. On my team of teachers, we have people ranging in age from 25 to 63, but we all do the same job, and for the most part, we work well together. Contrast that to a conversation I overheard one day shortly before the end of the school year. It was the annual visit of the next year's students, so for two days, we had fifth graders and their teachers touring the halls and peeking in our classrooms, trying to get a feel for middle school. One of the girls in my class recognized a boy from her elementary school. "I always thought he was kind of cute," she said to the girl next to her.

Her friend looked at her in disbelief. "Omigah! You are such a cougar!"