Simone in Seattle

Simone

  Courtney had a three-day meeting at the University of Washington in Seattle last week.  Judy and I took care of  Simone while Courtney was at her sessions.

      We drove to Seattle on Tuesday, and Judy met Simone for the first time.  Simone is a sociable, contented baby.  She coos and babbles, smiles and sticks out her tongue ten different ways.  She likes to be walked and jiggled and hummed to. She made a delicious bundle in our arms.

Josh and Simone

     On Wednesday we took Simone  to visit  my niece Jessamy and her family in Edmunds.  When we arrived, Megan and Jamie were waiting eagerly to meet their new second cousin.  My sister Rose was there, ready to hold the baby.  Her husband  John showed Judy the photos from his week-long hike counting marmots in the Olympics.

Flying with Mommy

      Simone, at three months, is just beginning to take a bottle.  If conditions are  right and she is not too frantically  hungry, she can be jollied into taking a tiny bit of milk and playing around with it in her mouth.  Mostly, she just waits for her mother.  It worked on Wednesday at Jessamy's when Rose persuaded her to sip a little.  That, and lots of attention from Josh, Megan, and Jamie,  kept the baby happy until Courtney arrived for dinner.
     On Thursday Simone was having nothing to do with the bottle.  Judy and I took her to explore  the university bookstore,  using the motion of the car and then the stroller to keep her comforted.  At noon and at three Judy's intuitive radar helped us to find the Atmospheric Sciences building on campus.  We carried the baby up to the sixth floor so Courtney could nurse Simone during breaks in the meetings.

Agua Verde cafe and paddle club

   Courtney's colleagues from the Dynamo project in the Maldives were eager to meet Simone, "the Dynamo baby."  I was happy to see them again.  I had the chance to introduce Judy to  Chuck, who bought us dinner our first night at Gan,  to Deanna, who shopped for scarves with me, to Bob, Courtneys' advisor, and to  Scott Ellis, whose smile always cheered me up.

Happy grandmother

    We ate dinner on Thursday evening at a combination Mexican restaurant/kayak club on Portage Bay.  I love the light in Seattle, the way it plays  on the hills and the big bodies of water. The evening light was especially fine as Simone sat in her infant seat on the table and we feasted on sweet potato enchiladas.
     It occurred to me that, if we were following the traditional instead of the modern  timetable for childbearing, Courtney would be the grandmother.  Judy and I would be sitting by the fire somewhere, missing all this action.

     When Courtney returned from her meetings around noon on Friday, we began our mad dash to:  feed the baby, change the baby, pack the car, check out of the hotel, fill up and return Courtney's rental car, maneuver through the Tacoma traffic, and drive fast but unobtrusively to  the Portland airport in time  to meet David and Maxine's plane.  We made it with 5 minutes to spare. We were ready for the second half of our joyful adventure, when both Maxine and Simone, along with their parents, would spend the weekend at our house.

Happy grandmother

  
  

Good Men

Rob with Jamie

Paul with Charlie and Sam

Nick with Mary Catherine

John and bubble blowers

   When I called my son Paul the other day, he was out fishing with his sons . He paused in our conversation to help Sammy bait a hook. "Good man, " I thought.  Meanwhile next door, Randy was bringing raspberries to his mother-in-law, and patiently driving his wife's grandmother home.  I thought again,"Good man. "  That afternoon I watched a crew of husbands work together to help break down  and dismantle the  rummage sale that the church ladies had toiled over for days.  Good men all, having a fine time supporting the women's project.

Les and Guin

Ernie and Jamie

    What makes a good man?  Polonius and Kipling tell us about personal qualities,  Jimmy Carter shows us about service, and thousands of successful men contribute to the remaking of the world toward peace and plenty.  I, however, find the goodness of men in the way they work with the women and children in their lives.

Jacob and Lucy

     At the beach, John and Paul ran the newspaper delivery crew, and Ernie took the kids out golfing.   Once, when Jacob was stirring and stirring his seafood risotto,  little Lucy held up her arms to him, "Hi, Daddy."  Jacob turned off the pot and went to play with Lucy.

Jeremy and Nora

     Does it take long years of refinement in the fire of family life to make a good man?  My friend Sheila thinks it's a matter of discrimination and  selection. You have to choose a good one.

John with his mother

David and Maxine

Good man in training

          Next weekend, Maxine will be here visiting.  Maxine is four, and she loves princesses and fairy tales.  We have princess sheets for her, and a Disney princess picture book complete with puzzles.   I have also found feminist fairy tale books.  In CinderEdna, for instance, Cinder Edna runs a cleaning business on the side, uses the proceeds to put her ball gown on layaway, and takes a bus to the ball wearing her loafers, which are more comfortable than glass slippers.   In Princess Smartypants, the heroine puts her suitors through a series of impossible challenges.  I want to be sure that Maxine knows:  You can tell who is a prince and who is not. Don't kiss that frog!

Stranger on a train

Mail car

    The 8:15 AM Amtrak train to Newark was crowded.  I searched three cars for a seat, and finally sat down next to a harmless-looking young woman with totes and duffel bags at her feet.  Trains have lots of legroom, but I am used to planes.  I read my New Yorker for a while, all the time airplane-seat vigilant that she did not spill over into my space.  At some point we started to talk, probably beginning with "Where are you headed?"
   She was going to Trenton to visit a college roommate.  Just returned last week from a year in Norway, where she taught elementary school.  She taught for a year in Minneapolis before that.  Have I heard of Teach For America?
    How did she get to Norway?  Well, it was a Fulbright. I asked her lots of questions about Norway.  She told me that one way they deal with the dark winters is to dim the lights, light lots  of votive candles, and knit.    She was struck with her Norwegian friends' conviction that Americans live with a constant undercurrent of panic.
     And what will she do next year?   Go to graduate school in Boston.  Where in Boston? Harvard.  Her face was bright. She's interested in educational policy.  How can schools of education  track their graduates after 5 or 10 years to find out what in works and what doesn't in teacher training?  The schools could then modify their programs.  It doesn't happen much now, she said.   Then she asked me, "Who was your favorite teacher, and why?" She was genuinely curious, interested in my experience and in me.

     We talked  through Baltimore, Aberdeen, Wilmington, and Philadelphia.  She told me a story that both puzzled and gratified her.  A former boyfriend, whom she had not seen in 5 years, called her to apologize for "being asleep, not being aware"  while they were together.  She didn't remember him that way, but was surprised and pleased that he sought her out to tell her what he had discovered.    "I hope I don't fall asleep anytime in my life,"  she said.  "That seems like an important thing."
     "Oh, you won't"  I insisted with all the assurance of my years. "When you are old and limited, it's the crucial thing, not to fall asleep, but you won't.  You've got it."
    We said good-bye.  I didn't ask her name,  just waved to her as she lugged her  bags off the train in Trenton.