Birthday Surprises

I turned 36 on Tuesday. It’s not a big birthday or anything, so I spent the morning watching The West Wing and eating peanut butter cups, which—believe it or not—isn’t the way I normally act on a Tuesday.

As it was Election Day, I did take some time out of my busy Netflix-streaming schedule to study the gazillion propositions on the local ballot. That afternoon, my mom and I walked (I use this term very loosely) over to a garage in our neighborhood so I could do my civic duty. They had a low booth for people in wheelchairs, and I mostly ignored my struggling hands as I connected arrows on 7 pages. I love to vote. I love the sticker they give you. I’m totally serious about this.

The night before my birthday, Scarlett was beside herself with excitement. “Your present is a Bandwagon shirt!” she screamed. “IT’S PURPLE!” Bandwagon is the name of the company my sister and her husband run, and this was a great gift because I’m always trying to figure out how I can be more involved in their business without actually doing any work. Wearing the uniform is the perfect solution. Read More>

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Don’t Cry for Me

“I don’t ask for your pity, but just for your understanding—not even that—no. Just for some recognition of me in you, and the enemy, time, in us all.” —Tennessee Williams, Sweet Bird of Youth

This weekend, my family and I went to the Bridge School Benefit concert. It’s a show put on by Neil and Pegi Young to raise money for the school that Pegi co-founded in 1985 to meet the needs of their developmentally disabled child. During the show, children from the school sit on the stage, and there are videos throughout to show some of their stories, as well as snippets of daily life at this incredible institution. I’ve been to the show at least 5 times, but this year, I watched the videos with a different perspective.

In the past, I have felt sadness and awe as I watched. Some of these children are severely disabled. Their families are clearly doing all that they can to give them the best lives possible, and the kids are shown smiling and learning, working hard. It’s honorable work, from all involved, and not easy, I’m sure. Still, by viewing their stories the way that I was—with pity—I now feel that I’ve been missing the point. Read More>

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Getting Schooled

Rob and I have spent the past month attending elementary school open houses and tours, just like every other parent with a preschool age child in San Francisco. I know there are many, many places in this country where you don’t have to go to numerous open houses; submit your top ten PUBLIC school choices, desperately hoping to get one; or subject your children to “visits” (i.e. interviews) at private schools. I grew up in a town where the school you went to was just the closest to home, and that was all there was to the selection criteria.

But we want to live in this city, and so we play the school game. It’s actually going fine, I did my online research, made a list of schools to see, scheduled the appointments, and showed up. Easy. What I didn’t count on was the reaction I would have during our first tour, when the children were actually there, as children generally are when school is in session.

They roamed the halls in little packs, made noise in their music class, studied quietly at low, colorful tables. And then there were the walls covered with their work: drawings of families, poems entitled Where I Come From, and lists of classroom rules they had all devised together. Read More>

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