Category: Parenting

  • Short Story Review: “Ambrose” by Allegra Goodman

    (The short story “Ambrose” by Allegra Goodman appeared in the September 30th, 2024 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Photograph by Annie Collinge for The New Yorker

    I’m paraphrasing this, but John Lennon said the best way to become a good song writer, is that you first have to write a lot of bad songs. I think that applies to any artist; to make good art, you have to make a whole lot of bad art first. That doesn’t mean that the bad art only serves the purpose of getting the artist to their good art. No, bad art can help in so many ways. That was one of the thoughts that went through my head while reading “Ambrose” by Allegra Goodman’s effectively touching story.

    Here’s a way too short synopsis: Lily is a sixth grader who is writing a story, about the Princess Ambrose, while also dealing with the difficulties of her parent’s divorce. Elements of Lily’s life work their way into the world of Princess Ambrose.

    What Goodman’s story just smashes are the little details. The way Lily decorates her notebook that contains the story, her parents concern, the words and phrases used by grownups talking about kids, and the way Lily sees her parents sitting together when they haven’t in a long time. I appreciated how Goodman approached Lily’s struggles by never belittling them, and though the school might have over reacted, the adults in Lily’s life take her seriously. But my favorite aspect was that Lily’s story wasn’t particularly good, in regard to originality or grammar. Lily creating a “good story” really isn’t the point so much as Lily discovering, maybe subconsciously, that the issues of her life can be expressed and dealt with in the art she is creating. I felt that was a very honest and authentic way to dramatize the creation of this writer, showing us how important it is that she writes this story, even though it isn’t very good. I think lesser writers would have made Lily’s story epic, and original and well written… and that would have missed the point.

    My only criticism of the story is the ending. Not the climax, which was handled very well. No, I’m talking about the last nine paragraphs. After giving us a nice honest moment between Lily and her mother, the final scene is in Lily’s dance class with an odd fitting “deus ex machina” of a substitute dance teacher. This felt tagged on, as if to give Lily a win in the story, or to end on a button. I found it distracting because the story was taking us to a place where Lily, and her parents, are all learning that this life together will be difficult, but they will face it as a family. Just didn’t sit right with me.

    That’s not to say that I’m not recommending this story. “Ambrose” is sweet, and moves with an airy confidence that is charming. Goodman makes Lily a very interesting, and intelligent kid who is going through a time in her life which makes everything a challenge. This isn’t life and death drama, but Goodman shows how impactful moments in a six grader’s life can be.

  • Missing Sleep, and Snuggles

    Last night was a rough night of sleep for me. The wife went to be at 10, and I was going to follow her at 10:30, which is normal for us. (She needs a head start, because if we go to bed together, I will fall asleep first, and I will snore which will cause my wife not to sleep, and you can see why I don’t want this to happen.) And right as I was about to get off the couch and go to bed, the kid got up.

    She was sleep walking, and mumbling, and I quickly put her back into bed. This happens from time to time, so no big deal. Other than the fact that I was awake, and had trouble falling asleep. Then the kid did this three more times, and by 1:30 in the morning, I started to wonder if I was ever getting to sleep. We all did, but my total for the night was four hours of sleep.

    To say that I am dragging, well, that’s accurate. I have nodded off twice while trying to write this. Sure, doesn’t help that I am sitting on my bed, but still – nodding off over here. I might do a power nap before I leave to get the kid from school.

    When all of this was going on last night – the kid sleep walking and try to coax her back to bed – I thought about when the kid was a little baby, and getting her fussy little butt to calm down and get some sleep. We had a rocking chair then, and even though we normally got a few hours of sleep during that period in our life, there was an understanding that fussiness with sleep was a temporary problem, she would grow out of it eventually, and also that her being tiny and snuggly was also a limited timed offer. She wouldn’t be a snuggle bug for long.

  • Japanese Curry and the Fun of Trying New Foods

    YouTube is now the devil in my home. I say that because I find myself watching YouTube videos before I head off the bed. It started simple; I would watch rounds of different disc golf tournaments or Bad Movie Bible videos. Then somehow the algorithm figured out that I am curious about making Japanese food.

    The cooking video that Google decided that I needed to see was this guy:

    I respect Kenji’s cooking show and the recipe he put forth. I do draw an exception with putting raisins in curry, or any food that isn’t trail mix. It’s just gross people, always has been, always will.

    Like I said, not sure how I got to this video, but am I glad that I arrived, because now I have to make my own. As luck would have it, the local H-Mart carried the curry powder that Kenji used in his video, so later this week, I will give his recipe a try… except no raisins. Honestly, it’s just a bad idea.


    The great thing is that my kid is game for this. I don’t know how we did this, but we have a kid that is willing to try new foods, no questions asked. When I was her age, what my mom prepared us was pretty middle of the road, Midwestern American food. Nothing crazy or surprising, as most of the recipes my mom followed either came from Betty Crocker, or her mom, or her mother-in-law. Later in life, both of my folks became much more adventurous with food. Probably because they didn’t haver to feed three boys anymore.

    I was lucky enough to make great friends in college, who were from all over the world, or had at least traveled around the world. It was positive peer-pressure, as I didn’t want to look like the unrefined yokel who was afraid to try sushi, or Indian food, or the Mongolian grill, or the new Pho place that opened up down the street from campus. And it also helped that I started dating a gal who was a trained chef, and trying new foods was like her whole thing. And then I married her, so that kind’a sealed my fate.

    Point here, I guess, is that I’m going to try my hand at making Japanese curry. I am very fortunate that I have a wife and kid that encourage me to try my hand at creating these dishes, as they are very open to trying them. Oh, and I have really great friends that forced me out of my culinary comfort zone twenty years ago.

    Just, no raisins please.

  • Mom and Dad’s Wedding Anniversary

    Today would have been my parent’s 58th Wedding Anniversary. My Ma passed away five years ago, and as we close in on October, it will soon be six years. Normally, I rarely remembered my parents anniversary as it felt a little weird to me to celebrate their anniversary, but at the same time, I should celebrate their anniversary because without it, I wouldn’t be here. Point being that it was not foremost on my mind, and my Ma usually reminded me when it was coming up.

    Their 50th Wedding Anniversary was a big deal, for more than the obvious reasons. Me and my brothers, wives included, threw a big dinner for them. Friends and relatives came in to help celebrate, and me and my little family snuck in town, and surprised my parents. It was great time; great food, great drinks, great stories. It was great, and a wonderful celebration of two very wonderful people who were filled with love, and gave some much love back to the world.

    I had forgotten today was their anniversary. Just about two hours ago, when I looked at the calendar on my computer, did I see the reminder.

    I talked to my Dad yesterday, we had a great conversation, but it didn’t come up. I’m not prone to remember these things, and I wouldn’t expect my father to say anything.

    He still has his wedding ring on. When we were home last, I made a point to check to see if he still had it. Sure did. And why would he take it off.

    There are so many days that trigger memories of my mother. Today is one of them, clearly. But a couple of days ago, it was my eighteenth anniversary of moving from Texas to New York, and that is a date that I am very proud of. And as I thought about my move, I remembered my Ma hugging me and crying as I left for the airport. And at my niece’s wedding this Summer, couldn’t help but wonder how Ma would have reacted to seeing her granddaughter getting married.

    My family doesn’t talk too much about missing Ma. It’s very much understood that we all miss her, and that won’t ever go away. Where we are now is telling funny stories and fond memories when we all get together. Don’t get me wrong, we are all still working through our grief, as that will be a long process. But, talking about her isn’t painful anymore.

  • ODDS and ENDS: Surprised I’m Here, Gotta Have Goals, and Sports

    (Nothin’ to do, nowhere to go…)

    I’m forty-seven years old. Not ashamed of my age, and other than a slight pot belly, I think I look rather good for my age. But for the life of me, when I was a kid, like nine years old, I never imagined that I would be this old. Well, sometimes I thought I’d be really old, like eighty, walking with a cane, shuffling around, being all grandpa like. No, when I was a kid, I thought I’d be in my twenties, and then, nothing. Thirty seemed like it was so far away, let alone forty. That some how, it couldn’t be possible that I would live that long. Not that I had some death wish, or believed I was doomed. No, it was more a matter of time. It’s time, the time it would take to become old seemed insurmountable. There just was no way that I could become that old… When I think about me at nine year old, I think he would be surprised that I am still here. And so bald…

    But the thing that makes getting older tolerable, is having a goal. Something to work towards, or look forward to. My Grandma Groff used to say that all the time when she would come and visit. That and it helps to have some spending money. But the goal thing, having something to accomplish, that has made a big difference if the last year for me. Not that it’s completely gone, but I don’t have that feeling of flounder much any more. That I’m just passing through my life, instead of being active in it.

    Growing up, we were a sports family, and then there was me; the un-athletic kid. I mean I tried. I tried my hand at baseball and basketball up through junior high. I really did love playing baseball, but I wasn’t athletically gifted; Batting ninth and right field were my lot. I took tennis lessons in high school, as my dad believed that we should do something physical, and not be a total loaf. I was pretty good at tennis, but I didn’t have the killer instinct for me to actually be competitive. After high school, I stopped playing any sort of sport. And then I had a daughter, who now is very into soccer. Which is cool, because I really like watching it. In my kid’s mind, watching soccer must mean that I know how to play soccer, right? I had written a week or so ago about helping the kid get ready for the soccer club try out. I enjoyed that, mainly because I was spending time with my daughter, but it was good being out and active. I also see in her mind’s eye that she is starting to think I am an athletic type of person. I enjoy this admiration I am receiving from her, but I know that in a year of two, it’s going to dawn on her how awkward and uncoordinated I really am.