Tag: #family

  • This is What Dad Does

    I got to do something last night with my daughter that I have been looking forward to for years. We went to a presentation of four works-in-progress puppet shows. The venue was Dixon Place down in the Lower East Side, and the showing was part of their Puppet Blok series. And, it was a school night, so this was a very special occasion. My daughter got to experience the world of puppets that I had been in, and meet some of the people I have been working with for over 15 years.

    The kid has known since forever that puppetry was the “thing” that I did in New York, but for most of the time when she thought of Dad and puppets, she was thinking “Muppets.” Slowly, as she’s grown, and I have shown her videos, and pictures of the type of work I was involved in. Some of it was traditional puppets, and some of it was mime, and other shows were more about movement and physical theatre. I never did marionettes because that is a hard skill to hone, and those guys are crazy.

    Last night, the kid got to have her first experience in seeing what it was that her father did. And I was especially happy that we chose last night because two good friends were showing their work, and both of them are very talented women who I have worked for. I wanted my daughter to see women being themselves, out front, creating art, and leading their projects.

    I was also a little nervous that the kid would get bored with the show. I learned a while ago that just because something is important to me, doesn’t mean it will be important to her. I’m not looking for her to want to become an artist or a performer. I just would like for her to have an appreciation of the arts, and the creative process. And works at this stage can be rough, very much “in progress,” and still a ways from a final form.

    But I needn’t have been concerned. She got it. She was into it. She was a great audience member as well. All four of the pieces engaged her, and lead her not to ask a bunch of questions, but to tell me how each piece made her feel. At the talk back after the show, she was a little shy to give her comments, but she whispered them to me, and I spoke up for her. Yeah, she got it.

    And it was a late night. We were riding the D train home, and she snuggled up next to be with her show program in her hand. I’m pretty sure she had a good time. I got what I wanted, which was to share a part of me with the kid.

  • Moving Stuff Around

    After Thanksgiving, like the day after, is when we put up our Christmas decorations. And to be honest, we never had a good place to put our tree. The curse of a small NYC apartment: There is a never a good place for anything.

    But this year, the wife came up with a good idea, which was to move our lounge-sofa away from our windows, and place the tree there. The tree looked nice in that location, and with all the other decoration we put up, it looked very festive, but cluttered – a Christmas explosion.

    Anyway, I mentioned before that we take everything down after New Year’s, but with the holiday on a Monday, and everyone back to life on Tuesday, we didn’t get around to cleaning up until this weekend. It took all day Saturday, but we got it done. Life had returned to normal, but we decided not to move the sofa back. We were tired, and ready to relax.

    And something amazing happened.

    The new placement of the sofa has changed the whole mood and flow of our apartment. You could logically assume that we were just reacting to something being “new” and in time it will wear off. But I have to admit, for the past two days our home has felt different, more home like, peaceful, calmer even.

    Is it possible that the placement of the sofa was holding us back? Does anyone remember Feng Shui? That was a pop-culture thing, right? Was that real or something made up to sell sofas?

    The funny thing is that I remember being a kid and my parents would do something like this very randomly, like every few years; that they would get a bug in their ear and just start rearranging the furniture in the home, and then talk about how much better everything felt.

    So, I have discovered another way that I am slowly becoming my parents. Not that I mind.

    No… Maybe the better way to think about this is that I am coming to a better understanding of who my parents were.

  • Short Story Review: “Once Removed” by Alexander MacLeod

    (The short story “Once Removed,” by Alexander MacLeod appeared in the February 7th, 2022 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Sometimes I think that half of life is just dealing with family. And when you get married, or have a partner, you adopt their family, and that takes up more time. I do think three quarters of all fiction is about dealing with families; the trauma, hypocrisy, illogic, and old feuds. Families know how to push buttons, and get you to agree to things that you would never agree to if it came from anyone else. And families somehow can make us take on roles and personas that we thought we had gotten past and stopped playing. Ah, the never ending well of drama that families can produce. And, don’t forget about minor annoyances. Families are really good at that, too.

    “Once Removed,” by Alexander MacLeod, is a minor annoyance family story. There is a thin, under the surface family issue that is hinted at, but it is not fully engaged. The story is about a Montreal couple who isn’t married, Matt and Amy, and their four-month old daughter Ella, going to visit Matt’s very distant relative, Greet. I will not explain how Greet is related to Matt as it is one of the ongoing jokes in the story, and this is a cute, funny piece. The perspective is from Amy’s point of view, and she is suspicious as to why they are being asked to a Sunday afternoon dinner; it couldn’t be as simple as Greet wanting to see the new baby, right? Lunch happens, a favor is asked, a neighbor is visited, maybe a heist happens, and Greet’s guest room is explored. The story hints that Greet has been banished from Matt’s Nova Scotia family, though never explained why, which also brings about an understanding between Greet and Amy, as Amy has never felt at place with that side of the family either.

    “Once Removed” is an enjoyable work, humors, and light in tone, and that is not meant to be derogatory. And then the story has a denouement, which I questioned. (I am aware that “denouement” may not be the correct literary term, but MacLeod isn’t the first short story writer to use this technique, or trick, and I am not sure what is a better term to use.) The climax of the story comes, and then Amy has this vision of the future involving Ella and telling her this story, of the Greet visit. The tone of writing even changes, going from realistic to more of an abstract feel, as if we are wrapping up what all of this meant. Like I said, MacLeod isn’t the first short story writer to do this, but I question the modern usage of it in a short story. I feel that a denouement is needed for longer work such as a novel, as there are many tangents that need to be brought together after the climax to bring about resolution. In a short story, enough time hasn’t been given for these tangents to be created, so a denouement feels like an add on, a trick to signal conclusion, rather than truly functioning as a conclusion to the story. I wouldn’t say it took away from the story, which I enjoyed, but made me wonder if this technique is really needed anymore.

  • Losing a Best Friend

    Yesterday, my Uncle Arnie passed away. He was my godfather, and he was goofy, silly, and had a very original midwestern accent that I have never been able to replicate. He was a good uncle, a great father, a dedicated husband, and he was my dad’s best friend. They grew up together, and in a funny twist of fate, they ended up marrying sisters, which meant they legally became family to each other. They liked martinis, and in family gatherings, sometimes they had to be separated at the table, because they could be a little rowdy and obnoxious. You know, just like best friends do. My heart just breaks for my Aunt Margaret, who lost her best friend, too. He was a good man, and he will be missed greatly.

    Then the other day, a friend from high school posted that another classmate of ours had died. My friend wrote a very moving post in Facebook, talking about how close they were in school, and even when they followed different paths and lived in different places, they stayed in contact, and stayed close. You could feel through her words how devastated she was in his passing, that there was a hole in her heart now.

    So, best friends, old friends, have been on my mind this weekend. We all make friends, and then those friends end up becoming family. And I miss my friends. I think what I miss most is just listening to them tell me about their lives. Their loves and adventures and experiences. To make them laugh, and vice versa. It is a motley crew of people we choose to share our lives with. Some for a short while, some forever. A friendship really is one of the greatest gifts you can give to someone.

  • First Day of Winter

    I couldn’t sleep last night, or I guess, more accurately, this morning. It was about 4:30am when I looked at my phone to see what time it was, and I wanted to try to get back to sleep. I tried. I rolled over to a different position, but it didn’t help. It was too hot in bed, I couldn’t get comfortable, and my beard was very itchy. By 5:30, I had to admit that I was awake and that I wouldn’t get back to sleep. I didn’t want to wake anyone, so I went to the office, and sat down with my journal.

    I could hear classical music coming from my daughter’s room, as she listens to that now, to help her fall asleep. The music plays all night, and there is something very innocent and endearing about it. That the kid is starting her own music education.

    I took out the journal and just started writing about the day; what I need to do, and hopefully, what I can accomplish. I also started writing about the next project that I want to work on, and how to use short stories, and story sketches together to tell a complete narrative of family dealing with mental issues.

    And I continue to write about writing. Writing about something that I would like to write about. How will I write about it? What style will I use? Will I try to craft 10 stories that each have an individual style to them? Is that possible?

    Then it dawns on me as the dawn is dawning; that this is the first day of Winter, and the shortest day with the longest night. It begins again, the growing of the day, the receding of the darkness. All things must pass, and the daylight is good at arriving at the right time, right?

    Sometimes things happen at the right time for the right reason.