Another huge, international football tournament is about to begin in 19 days, when the Women’s World Cup gets underway! I’m excited about this, including the fact that USA has another powerhouse of a team, with a very good chance to, again, win the cup. And I say chance because as each tournament has come up, the international competition has gotten better and better. Even though Team USA is ranked number one in the world, Germany and Sweden are coming up fast. In the end, nothing is guaranteed, which only makes the whole tournament more competitive. I have a good feeling that I will be posting about it; either here or on Twitter.
I am very happy that my kid can now do sleepovers at her friend’s homes. This was one of the last weird Covid issues, but now that we are all vaccinated, sleepovers are on! And my kid is behaving just like I used to – by trying to staying up all night! It’s a terrible idea, but man I use to love doing it. Outlasting my friends, watching all night movies, snacking, and then earning the reward of watching the sun come up and the day starting. Now that I am a parent, it drives me nuts that she won’t go to bed. All of her friends go to bed, but not my kid. She’s too much like her dad.
As this is the final day of the Supreme Court’s term, we are currently waiting on the final rulings. Thus, we will be getting another “Running of the Interns.”
I have one kid, and she is an only child. Also, I’m raising my kid in New York City. These are the facts of my situation as a parent.
I went out of my way to create my own little family in the most opposite way possible from the way I was raised. I grew up in the suburbs outside of Dallas, TX. I had two older brothers, and lived in a modest four-bedroom house with a backyard, and was surrounded by other four-bedroom houses filled with nuclear families raising lots of children. It was a neighborhood that school busses rolled through in the mornings, and was then filled with kids on bikes in the afternoon.
I know why I live in New York City, because I wanted a career in the performing arts, and this is one of the cities you can do it in. I never wanted to get married until I met the woman who became my wife. And I never wanted kids either, again, until I met my wife, and having a family with her sounded like a wonderful idea, sprouting from the ideal place of commitment and love.
I don’t regret anything, nor would I change anything, but there are some days that I wonder if our life would be easier, and by effect, would we be better parents, if we raised our kid in the same way we were raised – e.g. growing up in the suburbs?
There is one running theme in my life, and that is if I am told to go right, I’ll go left. If I’m told to jump, I’ll squat. I seem to go out of my way to do the opposite of what everyone else is doing. Most of the time, to my own detriment. Am I making choices that will have a negative effect on my kid?
The answer to that is yes. No matter what I do, there will always be unforeseen consequences. There is no right decision, only decision we learn to live with, and accept as positive. I love my parents, but they screwed up a lot with me and my brothers. (We were all stinkers, too, so I don’t blame them.) At the same time, they did most of the important stuff right, and in the end, I wouldn’t change it.
I guess this is what I’m going for when it comes to my kid; just get the big stuff right.
“Valley of the Moon” is an exquisite short story by Paul Yoon. Writing a good short story is hard enough, but writing a short story that feels lived in by complicated and authentic people, is pretty damn tough. Yoon takes it a step farther, and creates a story that speaks to the cycles in life, and how meaning remains elusive for some people.
The story is about Tongsu, a one-eyed man who, after the end of the Korean War, returns to the valley and home he was born in. His family is long gone, but Tongsu repairs the home, and makes his way as a substance farmer in the valley. There is a river that runs through the valley, and a set of rocks that as a child Tongsu was told the moon emerges and crashes down every night – only to repeat the process the next evening. One night, by these rocks, Tongsu is attacked by a man, who Tongsu kills out of self-defense, and proceeds to bury by these stones. Soon, two orphans, and boy and a girl, from a local church come to live with him. Years pass, and then one day a man comes through the valley looking for his uncle that went missing years before, but Tongsu is able to send the man on his way without raising any suspicions. Not long after that, one of the pigs dies, and Tongsu beats the boy for it. This leads to the children running away, leaving Tongsu alone again. Then the story picks up with the girl, Eunhae, now living in a city, working in a hotel, and creating her own life. She is given Tongsu’s phone number through the church, and she calls him. The reconnect, though never discussing the past, and she decides to visit him back in the valley. Things happen, but you can read about it.
What I loved about this story, and I just latched on to it, was the prose of this piece. It’s third person, with a detached and unemotional way of presenting the story. There is a “matter of fact-ness” to it, almost a simplicity, that keeps to story moving forward, but it never hinders the emotions. I found myself tensing up as the stranger arrived looking for his missing uncle, and also a pure shock of Tongsu snapping one day and beating the boy. And when the conclusion of the story arrives, still in this simple and direct prose, I was moved at how well these pieces played together, and brought me to a feeling that I had truly lived through this experience with these characters.
And that is the real trick with this story – creating that feeling of cycle, and continuation. I loved how this story was making the point, ever so slyly, how one decision creates new decisions, and how certain choices can never be undone. I also enjoyed how this was a story about fading memories, and what we decide to hold on to, and let go of. All of it coming back to the idea that life continues on, repeating the cycle.
“Valley of the Moon” by Paul Yoon is the type of short story that makes me love short stories. This is a world that is different from my own; I am presented with characters that are realistic and complicated. There is a plot and a climax that feels organic with the story that’s being told. It all feels so easy and simple, and I know creating a story like this isn’t easy or simple.
I wouldn’t say that I was dreading today, but I knew I had a lot to do. That was the reason that I didn’t sleep the best. Sure, there was a good/bad late movie on last night, which didn’t help.
But, today was the last day of school for the kid, and there was a finely dusted glaze of excitement in our apartment this morning. The cusp of Summer vacation was upon us, and the kid was bubbling over with glee to get it all started. For us the parents, we needed to take the appropriate pictures of “The Last Day of School,” so we could compare them to the shots we took on the first day of school. There was a noticeable bit of nervousness in me as we all walked to school. Something about last days that fill me with melancholy and the feeling of saying goodbye to people you’d grown accustom to seeing daily. The kid bounded off with her friends into school. No one really works on the last day – it’s just a fart around day.
My next task was to take the car in to be serviced. As Summer is almost here, we are about to start our serious driving season – traipsing around the Mid-Atlantic states, and New England as well. I never thought I would be the type of New Yorker who owned a car in the City, yet here I am. And as such, the responsibilities of car ownership are thrown on me – the maintaining of our car which requires that I drive it to the service center on the westside of Midtown. I like to take West End Avenue to get down there, as it’s an avenue, and an area of the City that I am never in. Full of big old apartment buildings that I’m guessing were built in the 1920’s or so. It is a land of doormen, and people who have to go to work, but well to do jobs, because these people have expensive bills. Like I said, it’s a part of New York I never go to, so I always feel like an explorer when I am there.
Then to round out my morning, I hit up the Trader Joe’s on 93rd. In the mornings, the place is a mix of older people, and people who look like they just got done working out, and aren’t in a hurry to get to work. Usually, I’m in and out rather quickly. I don’t dottle as this isn’t my favorite chore. Today though, 93rd TJ’s music player was ripping it up with some forgotten 90’s rock. Yes! I am now their target demographic, and they are catering to me! About damn time! Awesome choice with the 311 – and maybe I was too harsh to them when they came out! “I Alone”!!! I haven’t heard that song in years. Alive was a great band! Remember Alive? Me either! Because their name is actually Live. Good memory, I have…
Now home, it’s blog and making a Summer playlist for all the driving that I’ll be doing. Yes, Live and 311 might make the cut. Going to eat lunch and pick the kid up from school. Hopefully the rain will hold off so she can have some park time with her friends. I still have to make dinner, and start planning the rest of her vacation.
Outside of Christmas, my birthday, Halloween, Easter and Thanksgiving – The Last Day of School was the best day of the year! That feeling of elation of being done with school, learning, teachers, the other students, and the start of Summer vacation, is an experience that, try as I might, I can never recreate. I worked for a conservatory and a college, and the last day of classes at those institutions never had that same feeling either. When I was a kid, the last day of school was and final end point – a clearly defined conclusion. Working at a school on the last day of classes, all we could think about was getting ready for classes to resume. I tried piggybacking off of my kid’s last day of school, but the feeling I get is that I need to come up with things for her to do over vacation. No real elation in that.
But maybe, we adults aren’t supposed to regain that feeling? Like, no matter how much fun I have with my kid around Christmas time, I never feel like that eight-year-old kid that got a Star Wars AT-AT Walker from Santa. For one thing, kids are the center of attention at Christmas, and my role changed to parent – and as such with a different role, then I should expect to have a different experience. No real revelation there, right?
As I get older, I am wary of trying to “recapture” an old feeling. Everything in life changes, and so do feelings. When I revisit places of past glories and happiness, the feelings that come over me are twinges of sadness, lightly salted with the acknowledgement of the joy I had once encountered there. Melancholy isn’t to far away either. I keep thinking that full-blown happiness will come back to me in those situations, but it doesn’t. What I left with is the feeling that I want to move on. And even then, it is still had to say goodbye to the places of your past.
But as I was reminded today by an old friend, moving forward, getting out there and trying for new experiences is the only way to keep alive and connected.
