Here Comes the Surge

After Thanksgiving Break it had been a while since I had "seen" my students, and so I set aside a longer period of time than usual to converse and connect with them at the beginning of class. 

"I'm warning you," I said, "I missed you guys last week, and so I'm going to ask everybody a follow up question to your Chat Snap today. I just want to hear your voices!"

I guess they wanted to use their voices, too. The question of the day was simply What was the highlight of your break? and the answers were predictable: food, family, and video games. But with a little prompting? Oh my! Some of the kids talked more than they have for the entire year put together, and in addition to pies and turkeys and Christmas trees, there were also pictures of kittens and parakeets and pugs in sweaters, and tales of family game nights and holiday movie marathons.

Unfortunately, there were also several reports of Black Friday shopping, huge family gatherings, and sleepovers with friends. I'm sure everybody thought they were being as safe as necessary. My own family ignored the CDC warnings not to travel. Of course we took precautions, but we also took our chances. I'm glad we did, and that makes it hard to begrudge others the same comfort and joy.

Even so.

I Think Not

I laughed today when I read that President Trump's longest serving cabinet official is... Secretary DeVos of education infamy. Holding her office in all the hurly burly of that administration may have been the closest she'll ever come to lasting a few years in a classroom full of kids, never mind actually doing them some good. 

The joke seemed a little too good to be true, and so I did a little research on my own. DeVos is actually only the second longest serving cabinet member of this administration. Six out of fifteen secretaries made it all the way through, their seniority determined only by Senate confirmation, and guess who was actually confirmed first? Elaine Chao, Secretary of Transportation, who also happens to be Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell's wife.

Coincidence? 

Season of Light

Just as expected, with Thanksgiving 2020 in the books, Christmas lights have started twinkling everywhere. Last night on a walk through the neighborhood we saw a dad and his perhaps three-year-old daughter strolling hand in hand admiring the decorations. "I'm just so excited!" the little girl cried, dropping her dad's hand and dashing forward. "Look! There's some more lights!"

I have to admit I understood the feeling. There is something quite thrilling about colorful lights, especially as the days grow shorter. Perhaps it is the promise of Christmas and all that holiday brings, but it could also be a little more primordial: in darkness we are drawn to the light. Tonight as we walked home from picking up Lucy, the full moon rising added even more spectacle to the array of shining snowflakes, glowing candy canes, brilliant icicles, bright trees, and even Yoda in a Santa hat. Undeniably, my step lightened and my mood lifted, and the hours spent in front of the computer dropped away.

Concerned, I turned to Heidi. "What are we all going to do in January?"

The Good Genes

Richard and Annabelle had an argument while we were at the beach last week. They're teenagers and siblings, so it was bound to happen. "You got all the bad genes in the family!" Richard spat at his sister in the heat of the disagreement. 

I thought about his observation this evening when I called my aunt to catch up and wish her a belated Happy Thanksgiving. "I'm really sorry I'm calling so late in the weekend," I said. "I feel bad."

"Don't ever feel bad about that," she told me. "I am the world's worst caller! I have no place to complain."

"Well, I am the world's second worst caller, then!" I replied. "But it's nice to know that I come by it honestly."

As our conversation drew to a close I said, "Well, I'm going to let you go. I know it's your dinner time."

"That's right," she agreed. "We're having turkey noodle soup tonight."

"Does it have tomatoes in it?" I asked, because that's how my mom always made the soup after Thanksgiving.

"Oh, yes!" she answered. "It has to have the tomatoes!"

"Wait until I tell Courtney," I laughed, mentioning my sister. "She HATES the tomatoes in the turkey soup!"

"Where did we get her?" my aunt asked.

"I know," I said, "and she's a pretty good phone caller, too."

A Glass Darkly

"It's a shame we didn't do this when Mom was still around to enjoy it," my sister said to me the other day at the beach. She was rolling the pastry for our pumpkin pie. 

I swiveled the tall stool on the other side of the counter around from my ocean view to face her. "I was just thinking of Mom, too," I said.

"Well, she's never far from thought," my sister answered, and she was right. 

I had been thinking all week of when this very same group had gathered at the beach eleven years ago for my mom's 70th. It was June and the summer was young, and so it seemed we all were. My mom was a vigorous new septuagenarian, my older nephews were in their teens, my sister's kids were 18 months and nearly 4, and this blog was just a few months into its run. Despite the years in between, my impressions then reflect our experiences now.

Seaside 

This evening our dog chased a ball through the surf, leaving crescents of ragged claw-shaped prints across a field of tiny air bubbles in the flat, wet sand. Tonight the stars fill the sky in a way that is impossible in the light-washed nights of the city where I live. What will tomorrow be like? 

Seaside 2: What We Take with Us: 

I had a beach cruiser when I lived at the beach. What a ride! It was a cool black and pink one-speed Schwinn with high, padded handle bars, a wide, soft seat, nobby tires for some traction in the sand, and flat pedals so you could ride barefoot down the boardwalk. Gosh, I loved that bike. 

 

When we moved north, I brought my beach cruiser with me, but it was totally unsuited for the roads in my new town; they were way too hilly. I had been warned that I wouldn't get a lot of use out of it in the place that I was moving, but I couldn't let it go. Eventually, I bought another bike, and the cruiser decayed away in a leaky outdoor shed. The chain rusted; the tires went flat; the cushy handlebars cracked, and squirrels chewed through the seat cover and made off with the padding for their nests. I'm embarrassed to admit that eventually it ended up in the trash on another moving day, but I was glad when someone took it before the garbage truck came. 

 

It turned out to be another tragic lesson on the difference between what we need and what we want-- my beach cruiser totally deserved better. 

 Seaside 3: I Love an Ocean 

Today my nephew and I were sitting in the surf. He's almost four and has a healthy respect for the sea; in fact, he's terrified of it, so we were way up at the waterline where the waves could just reach us. I don't usually sit at all at the beach, and I'm not one to sunbathe or nap, either. I like to swim, or beach comb, or play frisbee or catch, or build things in the sand, but sitting still, not so much. Still, there we were, the outgoing tide carving little gullies beneath our heels and butts, and looking around, I noticed that we were surrounded by hundreds of tiny little clams about the size of a baby's fingernail. They were translucent shades of white, orange or blue with the finest of stripes and subtle variations in color. When the water left them temporarily high and dry, they would each extend a teeny, nearly transparent, fleshy foot to flip themselves vertical and then disappear beneath the sand in a blink. Enchanted, I showed my nephew, and we watched them together for a while. I picked a couple up and put them in some sand in his hand, and they buried themselves there. "Isn't that cool?" I asked him. 

 

He nodded. "I love an ocean," he sighed. 

Seaside 7: Sunset Sunrise 

On the east coast, the sun does not set over the ocean. There are lovely sunrises for those who get up early enough, but for a sunset over water, you have to be on a mighty big lake or bay. Tonight, as the sunset washed the sky behind a bunch of houses and trees to our west a faded pink, we bid the first farewell of our vacation. My mom has a 6 AM flight in the morning, and so she left to stay with some friends who live closer to the airport. After yet another perfect day at the beach, some late afternoon Wii Karaoke, and a great dinner of crab cakes, homemade slaw, and salads (it pays to have high-end leftovers), there were tears-- as there always are when our family parts-- and the gray light of the dusky evening seemed to reinforce the undeniable fact that all that was left of our vacation was the packing up and getting out of the rental place by 10 AM.

Adapt or...

It's a cliche to say that the beach is relaxing, and yet, being here for Thanksgiving seemed to give permission to relax some of the Thanksgiving traditions we have had for so long. 

For one thing, we started making and eating our pies and desserts early in the week to avoid that feeling of must eat, even after one of the heaviest meals of the year. The menu for our holiday feast was streamlined, a few favorites left out or simplified in the interest of saving time and being able to enjoy the amazing weather-- 70+ degrees in November! The parade was no longer de rigueur viewing-- why watch the rain in Herald Square when the sun was shining on the ocean right outside our door? And Black Friday? Well, I almost got away without spending a cent, but the seafood market was right there as my sister and I were pedaling our beach cruisers, and shrimp tacos instead of pasta night seemed like another wise modification. 

And who knows? This is our second Thanksgiving at the beach. That in itself may be a new tradition.

Thanksgivingtide

We passed what must have been a family celebrating Thanksgiving on the beach this morning. About 18 or 20 folks, of at least three generations, some dressed up, some playing in the sand, many wearing masks, and all standing a responsible distance apart, smiled and chatted in a warm November sun. A light breeze blew off the tumbling sea, the surf still up from the storm that passed through last night. There was no turkey or dressing or cranberry sauce, but their gratitude at safely gathering in these treacherous times, and in such a beautiful place, clearly matched my own.