X is for X That Out

The end of the school year is always full of disruptions, and this year is no different. A combination of standardized tests and other special activities upset the routines that we have all come to expect. With a group of over one thousand souls, the logistics of such events can be tricky, and the resulting disturbances can be positive, negative, or neutral, depending on how they are managed. 

It is hard to go all in on a proposition that you see as flawed, especially if no one has solicited your input or even worse, your input has been overruled. The plans we have before us for the next three weeks fall into that category for me and several of my colleagues, but there is no such thing as trouble shooting when you aren't in the loop.

Many years ago I unsuccessfully resolved to strike the word "should" from my vocabulary. Today I don't remember my motivation then; the best I can reconstruct is some realization that very few people actually want advice, but it might have been the consistent accusations of bossiness from my brother, too. 

Either way, I realized today that my next 100 day challenge might be some form of eliminating that word from my discourse. 

Life Lesson: Some languages don't even have the concept of *should*. Maybe they are on to something.

F is for Fifty Years Later

"I first started Waltoning about ten years ago when I was in my late 40s," answered the round-faced blonde woman who had a few minutes earlier admitted us to the six-room farm house built in 1915

After she had collected our ten dollar admission fee and given us her introductory spiel, we were free to wander the house. "I had guests here last night," she shrugged. "I have to clean! But do let me know if you have any questions."

It was then that I asked her how she had come to own this house on Schuyler Mountain where Earl Hamner, Jr. and his seven brothers and sisters had grown up. The place was our last stop of three on a relatively bustling crossroads in the middle of not much else. We had already been to the Walton's Mountain Museum and also the general store, but this was the actual house where the family who inspired The Waltons had lived until 1990.

Since it was a mere 20 minutes off the highway, I thought visiting this landmark on our way home from Lynchburg was a no-brainer, and I only questioned my resolve slightly when the waitress at breakfast, a delightful young woman in her early 20s who was friendly enough to ask about our plans for the day, had never heard of our destination (never mind the TV show!) despite the fact it was less than an hour away. The rest of the graduation group was also less than enthusiastic when we shared our plans with them before our farewells. "That sounds like a classic Tracey plan!" one of them actually said. 

"We'll report back and let you know if it's worth the detour!" I replied cheerfully.

And my optimism never flagged until we were inside the museum and looking at photocopied photos of the actors and articles about the show. A 30 minute, poor quality video from the late 90s did nothing for my enthusiasm, and we moved quickly through the iffy replicas of the set (John Boy's room, the living room, the kitchen, the Baldwin sisters' parlor, and Ike's store, which was also the gift shop) stopping briefly at the photos of the real Hamners. Our next stop was a general store with a bored clerk and very little inventory, heavy on tin Christmas ornaments and mason jar accessories. 

My hopes were not high as we climbed the steps onto the front porch of the tiny white national historic landmark, but seeing the actual house that this family of 10 had lived in during the depression and beyond seemed as if it might be a little more meaningful than the other two stops. And it was and it wasn't. The house was surprisingly roomy, given its appearance. There was a big open kitchen, a large living room, 2 bedrooms downstairs (one that had been converted to a full bath, and two upstairs, one for the boys and one for the girls. 

In the end, I didn't regret stopping, but I can't recommend it either. The whole place is as faded as the photos in the museum. The TV show was a cultural phenomenon when it first aired 50 yers ago, but memories of it are dimming as the folks who watched it age. I do believe the site could be reimagined as a history of the depression in rural Virginia, generalizing the experience and capitalizing on the show, but unless a re-visioning happens (and is funded)? I can't see how the place can be around for very much longer.

Life Lesson: Evolve or die.

E is for Extended

We gathered today in Lynchburg for the high school graduation of Heidi's goddaughter. The last time we were in this little city on the James River was nearly 18 years ago, when the same child was born. Shortly after that, her family moved to New Jersey, and over the years we've attended christenings and first communions and other milestone events of hers and older sister's where we have met her grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, and other close family friends. It's been about 10 years since the last celebration, though, and in that time the family has returned to the same private school where her dad  worked when she and her sister were born, and it was from that school that she graduated today. 

How strange it is to spend the day with people that we know and keep up with through our mutual acquaintance but have only met a few times and haven't seen in ten years. Dining on sandwich wraps and cookies, the quality of interaction shifts from superficial to friendly to almost intimate. But then the conversation flags and we stand awkwardly to throw our paper plate in the trash, refill a solo cup with ice tea, and repeat the ritual with another partner until it's time for good byes. There will be the decision to hug or not to hug. "Safe travels!" we will say. "It was so good to see you again."

"Until next time!" they might answer, 

And because it occurs to us that these meetings are most definitely numbered, we nod and lean into that hug.

Life Lesson: Live in fragments no longer. Only connect! ~E.M. Forester

L is for Lynchburg

We are headed out on a pre-summer road trip this evening. A goddaughter is graduating from high school down in Lynchburg, VA, and we are off to cheer her on. The ceremony will be held tomorrow morning at 10:30 out on the lawn of her school. Far from calling for rain, tomorrow's forecast is sunny and 95. 

Of course we hope that the day will heat up slowly, but it is 97 down there right now, so there's a chance that it will be warm and muggy from the get go. Even so and despite leaving the dog behind in the good hands of my brother, I'm looking forward to going somewhere, being somewhere, and seeing somewhere other than this old town. 

We were talking about the upcoming trip with a colleague whose son graduated from college in Lynchburg yesterday. "It is a pretty little town,: she declared, "despite the unfortunate name."

Life Lesson: Sometimes a change of scenery will do you well.

Q is for Quest for Pao de Queijo

One thing that still amazes me about the global economy and online shopping is the ease with which I can obtain specialty ingredients from all over the country and the world. Even in our very cosmopolitan area, there are still some things it is hard to come by, especially without visiting several of the many international markets around. So black garlic, organic beeswax, pizza flour and crushed tomatoes from Italy, celery vinegar, glacéed cherries, and specially processed coffee, and more have all been delivered directly to my door.

My latest acquisition is 2 pounds of sour cassava flour (polvilho azedo). Made from the same root that produces tapioca, which is known variously as cassava, manioc, and yuca, this type of flour is fermented before it is dried. A common usage for polvilho azedo is in a Brazilian quick bread called pão de queijo. Essentially a version of the pate choux and cheese puffs known as gougere, these crisp little bites are often served hot out of the oven for breakfast.

When first I read of the dish on Kitchn,

I had my first pão de queijo at a Brazilian restaurant in Atlanta over five years ago, and I still dream about it. It was crispy outside but amazingly soft and chewy inside, and its cheese flavor was so haunting that I had to eat several more just to fix it in my mind 

the description was irresistible, and I knew I had to make them myself. I had cassava flour in the pantry from a vegetable gnocchi recipe that I've made a few times, but I quickly discovered that although it was possible to substitute the "sweet" variety I had, the fermented version was preferred. Fortunately, a quick internet search revealed that I could order the real stuff from Brazil and have it here in Virginia within a couple of weeks.

So guess what's on the menu tonight?

Life Lesson: It's a small world.

U is for Under a Month

 "This is really fun!" a student said today about the lesson and activities. "We should do things like this more often!"

"You mean in the 4 weeks we have left together?" I asked with a touch of snark.

She shrugged, unimpressed by the brevity of the remainder of the school year. "Yeah!"

Life Lesson: Who's counting?

D is for Do or Die

"I just realized we are all 15 years apart!" one of the teachers in my CLT commented this afternoon. With 2 of us turning 60 in the next 6 weeks or so, age has been a big topic of conversation. 

"I'm looking forward to 60!" my friend Mary proclaimed.

"I am not," I sighed.

"I'm embracing it!" Mary said, "me and all the other people turning 60."

"Like Tom Cruise?" I said. "Jody Foster? Demi Moore?"

"Right," she nodded. "Jim Carrey, Jon Bon Jovi, Sheryl Crow."

"Rosie O'Donnell, Mathew Broderick, Emilio Estevez," I continued.

"Paula Abdul, Ally Sheedy," now Mary was reading from the internet. "It's like the whole Breakfast Club! And Steve Irwin, but he didn't make it."

"He won't turn 60," I agreed.

Our colleagues were doing their own research. "I have Kanye West," Kerry groaned. "But also Tom Brady!"

"Orlando Bloom and Liv Tyler, both elves in The Lord of the Rings," I noted, looking at her year. "And Brittney Murphy, but she didn't make it either."

"I have Ed Sheeran and Da Baby," our fourth coworker, Shaina, reported. "And Emma Roberts, too!"

"This isn't make me feel any better," I said. "It's just reminding me that I'm 15 and 30 years older than all those people, too!"

Life Lesson: Don't complain about growing older, especially considering the alternative.