Second Star to the Right . . . (RE-POST from 3/25/17)

We recently started working on the spring musical at my school. This year, we are doing The Lion King. I ran across this post from last year about Peter Pan, and a wave of nostalgia hit me. I wonder how the kids the will make it special this year. Gathering material . . . 

Enjoy this reread from 3/25/17.

"Shadow, what's the matter with you?" Photo credit: Jason Lee

The week before spring break, my fifth and sixth graders perform in a musical production. Last year, it was Annie. The year before that, Oliver! Before that, The Wizard of Oz. 

This year, it was Peter Pan.

The spring musical has evolved into a school wide tradition. The parents and teachers costume the kids, design the sets, donate props, develop special effects, and help with make-up and hair. This year, one of our staff members, who has experience teaching Shakespeare to elementary school kids, even attended some of our rehearsals and worked with my cast.

I kind of turn the school into a theater for a few days, complete with make-up/hair and dressing rooms, not unlike the years I spent performing full musicals with my little brother in my family's rec room. I just have more kids to play with now.

Nothing caught on fire. No one broke a bone. It was a success.

Guys, I'm not being glib. This production was heavy on special effects for an elementary school. Dry ice, backlit muslin curtains, Christmas lights pushed through butcher paper and cardboard, kids on heelies and scooters. I repeat: Nothing caught on fire. No one broke a bone.

The day of the program, the kids and staff members proudly wore their green, Peter Pan production shirts. Even my stage managers, who were supposed to wear all black, staged a coup and begged to wear the show shirts instead.

By the end, my stage managers ran the show anyway. For example, I was chasing after our crocodile with the safety pins that had, once again, popped off his tail, and the stage managers decided to hit the lights and start the scene without me.

I could feel the kids feeding off the energy of the audience and responding to the laughter and applause, just like real actors.

This year, several of my former students left their junior high classes early ("We're only missing our last two periods!") to watch Peter Pan, and relive memories of their elementary school play from the previous year.

At the track meet after school, I heard several reports of parents and kids still talking about the production. Apparently, some of the fifth and sixth graders were even singing and performing choreography between events.

I didn't sleep well the night after the show. My brain refused to turn off. I'm probably worse than the kids as far as the whole adrenaline rush thing goes.

The next morning, one of the second grade classes had colored Peter Pan sheets and had written little notes about the performance.

The kindergartners showed up at my door and immediately started chattering about Peter Pan.

One of the girls exclaimed, "That was the best play I’ve ever seen!"

I agree with the five-year-old. This year will be hard to beat.

"But Peter threw me hand to a crocodile . . . " Photo credit: Jeannie Rydalch

The face says it all. Photo credit: Jeannie Rydalch

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Adventures in Cross-Country Skiing (RE-POST FROM 1/15/07)

Since I published this blog post, my skiing abilities have improved. But I still have issues. While I am hitting the (fairly flat) slopes this weekend, please enjoy reading this re-post from 2007. 

As you have probably guessed by now, when I got married, I was introduced to a plethora of new experiences, most of which consisted of taking some sort of physical risk and/or required aerobic exertion.

My husband has never quite convinced me that snowboarding is indeed an enjoyable, exhilarating winter sport, as opposed to the nerve-racking, heart-palpitating, blood pressure raising activity I know it to be. I compromised, though, and agreed to take up cross-country skiing.


I had even gone cross-country skiing a couple of times prior to meeting my husband, although my encounters with the sport were limited to skiing on short, flat, well-groomed trails with a trained instructor.

During what I fondly call the honeymoon period of my marriage, Dan and I decided to go cross-country skiing for the first time as a newlywed couple. It was, in fact, on our honeymoon that the following event occurred, and it was the period of our marriage before I had revealed my anxiety-ridden personality to my husband.

“I’ve been tons of times,” I said, feigning indifference and expertise.

 

When we reached the Nordic lodge, Dan handed me my boots and skis.

“Shouldn’t we take a lesson first?” I asked. “It’s been a while since I’ve skied.”

“They have cross-country lessons? It’s so easy. Anybody can do it,” was his response.

In reality, it was a little like riding a bicycle. Pretty soon, I looked so good that Dan said, “Let’s go on some blue trails!”

Now, green trails are the easy trails, blue trails are the moderate trails, and black trails . . . well, even during the honeymoon period, I had made it clear that I was not going to ski any black trails.

Against my better judgment, I followed my husband onto a blue trail. And I was doing great, until I approached my first hill. Hills are the very reason I do not “downhill ski” and instead choose to “cross-country ski.”

As I rolled down the hill, I yelled, “I told you not to take me on a blue trail!”

When the laws of gravity finally finished with me, from my prostrate position in the snow, I began to blame Dan for, not only my fall, but all of the terrible catastrophes throughout history – wars, famines, plagues, etc.

“But wasn’t going down the hill just a little bit fun? At least until you fell?” he asked.

I did make it down a few minor slopes after the first disaster and did eventually admit that it was fun . . . when I didn’t fall.

The final hill on the trail, however, appeared to be long and steep from my perch, and I stood pensively at the summit, contemplating my imminent death.

“You could really hurt yourself on this hill if you don’t know what you’re doing,” another skier said to me, as he glided gracefully down the slope.

So I took off my skis and walked down the hill which, apparently, was not the smartest solution either because the snow from the hill froze onto my boot binding, making it impossible for me to snap my skis back into place.

One of the Nordic trail employees, who happened to be skiing by, returned to the lodge to call for help. A few minutes later, an emergency snowmobile showed up to give me a ride back to the lodge; by that time, the snow had melted off of my boot, and I was able to put on my skis again.

My husband was rather embarrassed by the incident. Yet the newly gained enlightenment regarding his new wife proved to be invaluable.

We still cross-country ski in the winter, but we stick to the green trails.

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And Like a Good Neighbor . . . Becky is There

My husband, Dan, and I keep to ourselves. In the past, we have been referred to as the "quiet young couple." We are forty now, so I doubt that applies anymore. I have seen a lot of homeowners, who are younger than us, roaming around our subdivision.

Most of the time, Dan and I are pretty private.

There was that time I saved a dog and rescued a lady who fell off her bike. That's just all in a day's work for Wonder Woman though, and I am totally Wonder Woman.

Occasionally, we have spied on our neighbors, but no one has to know that.

However, one evening . . .

I was minding my own business, staring out the back window,

when I noticed smoke billowing from the back our neighbor's house!

"Does that look normal?" I asked Dan.

"It is a lot of smoke."

We watched out the window for a few seconds.

"It doesn't look like it's letting up either," Dan added.

"It looks like it could be coming from a kitchen. I don't think anyone would be barbecuing at this time of the year, do you?"

"Probably not," he agreed.

"I'm going over there," I said, putting on my shoes and coat. "Maybe I can tell if anyone is home."

I ran all the way to the cul-de-sac behind us. When I arrived, it was quiet. No one seemed worried, and no smoke alarms were going off.

One guy was raking leaves calmly in his front yard.

What's wrong with you? I thought. Don't you know the house next door to you is on fire?

In reality, I said, trying to catch my breath, "I was just checking to see if anyone was home at your neighbor's house. It looks like it's on fire from my house around the corner."

"Huh, it does smell a little like smoke," the man said. "Maybe you should check. His name is Jake. He lives there with his brother and maybe his mother."

He continued to rake his leaves.

The lights were on in Jake's house, and there were a couple of cars in the driveway. If the house were on fire, surely someone would be aware of it. I almost turned back, but I didn't want to seem weird to the guy raking his leaves or anything. I mean, I had run all that way . . .

A woman answered the door. I explained why I was there.

"It's just Jake burning the house down," she said. "That's what happens when he cooks."

I walked (slowly this time) back to my house.

"You were being a good neighbor," one of my other neighbors, who had seen me running by his house, said on my return. "Remember the house across the street there?" He pointed to a ranch-style house across the way. "That burned down a few years ago."

The other night, Dan found me in the office and said, "Our neighbor's house looks like it is on fire again. Do you want to run over there?"

"No," I replied. "I'm going to be like everyone else and ignore everything."

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Becky's Twenty-Book Challenge 2017

 

Last year, I started a twenty-book challenge after reading articles about overachievers who read one hundred books a year. I decided to aim a little lower, and I challenged myself to read twenty books in 2016. I read twenty-one.

Feeling confident about my twenty-book reading ability, I kept the goal the same and tried to read twenty books again this year.

Epic. Fail. I read eighteen this year.

"You did read Jonathan Franzen's Freedom this year," Dan reminded me. "That's a pretty big tome."

True. However, I read The Mists of Avalon in 2016, which is over eight hundred pages long.

I don't know what happened.

I still read some good books this year, even though I didn't quite reach my goal.

Becky's 2017 Twenty-Book Challenge

JANUARY
1. I Feel Bad About My Neck: And Other Thoughts on Being a Woman by Nora Ephron
Notes and Favorites: “Anything you think is wrong with your body at the age of thirty-five, you will be nostalgic for at the age of sixty-five.” The chapter, “Considering the Alternative,” was a poignant take on aging and death. She died six years after the publication of this book.

2. Freedom by Jonathan Franzen
Notes and Favorites: What kind of responsibility comes with freedom and how do we handle it? The story is about marriage and family in a post 9/11 world, but the relationships also serve as a microcosm of American society (and American, dare I say, freedom).

3. I Remember Nothing by Nora Ephron
Notes and Favorites: A wry but at the same time poignant final collection of essays before her death in 2012.  Throughout the book, she lets you know, “More on that later” She actually remembers a lot, rather than nothing, as the title suggests. Of course, Ephron has also said, “Take notes on everything,” great advice, especially since I remember nothing too.

FEBRUARY
4. An Invisible Thread by Laura Schroff and Alex Tresniowski
Notes and Favorites: This was a gift. I would not have read this book otherwise. I don’t read a lot of memoirs unless they are funny or really well-written or about rock stars, and this book isn't any of that. It’s not bad, but it’s not my thing. It’s also pretty white savior-ish, rich white woman helps poor African American boy. The story is nice though. It was okay.

5. Born a Crime: Stories From a South African Childhood by Trevor Noah
Notes and Favorites: I feel like we all need to listen to people like Trevor Noah who came of age in a country ruled by systematic racial oppression, considering the turn (or one hundred steps backwards) our own country has taken.

MARCH
6. All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr
Notes and Favorites: I remember my brother saying Donna Tartt’s The Goldfinch haunted him. I feel that way about this novel. I had to take a moment to weep after finishing this story. “Every hour, she thinks, someone for whom the war was a memory falls out of the world. We rise again in the grass. In the flowers. In songs.”

APRIL
7. The Year of Living Biblically by A.J. Jacobs
Notes and​ Favorites: Jacobs’ interactions with his wife, Julie, and his son, Jasper, were my favorite parts of this book. I liked his writing and humor, but as a rule follower, just thinking about so many “thou shalt nots” stressed me out.

8. Big Little Lies by Liane Moriarty
Notes and Favorites: I read this book while I watched the TV show. I don't know if I have ever read a book about a killing that simultaneously made me laugh and left me with such a powerful sense of sisterhood. I am not normally a Chick Lit reader, but I am sold on this author.

9. The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis
Notes and Favorites: The opening quotations bring to mind Donald Trump. Just sayin’:

“The best way to drive out the devil . . . is to meet and flout him, for he cannot bear scorn.” Luther

“The devil . . . prowde spirite .   . . cannot endure to be mocked.” Thomas More

MAY
I finished nothing in May.

JUNE
10. My Life on the Road by Gloria Steinem
Notes and Favorites: I not only enjoyed her anecdotes, starting from an early age of road tripping with her free-spirited father, but I learned a lot about American history and culture through the eyes of a seasoned traveler. A few readers who reviewed this memoir online complained about its lack of organization, but I didn’t find that to be true at all. It’s not chronological. It’s organized thematically. She writes anecdotes about family, social connections, culture, and history, all of them tied to her personal experiences on the road.

11. The Secret History by Donna Tartt
Notes and Favorites: I hope nobody takes away my literature lover card for saying this, but I liked this more than The Goldfinch. I would guess it also influenced Special Topics in Calamity Physics, another favorite of mine. Maybe I just prefer murder mysteries to stolen artwork mysteries. “The dead appear to us in dreams . . . because that's the only way they can make us see them . . .”

JULY
12. Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood
Notes and Favorites: First in the MaddAddam trilogy. This world she has created should serve as a warning to us. I’m going to leave it there . . . for now.

AUGUST
13. Al Franken: Giant of the Senate by Al Franken
Notes and Favorites: Who knew that Stuart Smalley was a result of Franken’s involvement in Al-Anon’s twelve-step program? “But I really think that if we don’t start caring about whether people tell the truth or not, it’s going to be literally impossible to restore anything approaching a reasonable political discourse.”

Of course, I read this book before his scandal and resignation. Now it just seems disappointing. Memoirs, ugh.

14. The Year of the Flood by Margaret Atwood
Notes and Favorites: Second in the MaddAddam trilogy. “So music is built in, Glenn said: it’s knitted into us. It would be very hard to amputate it because it’s an essential part of us, like water.”

SEPTEMBER
I finished nothing in September.

OCTOBER
15. Hunger Makes Me a Modern Girl by Carrie Brownstein
Notes and Favorites: Any performer can relate to the last description at the end of the book, standing on stage in the pitch black, a moment of panic, wondering if you made a mistake. Then the energy from the audience hits you. Brownstein says about this experience, "I was home.”

16. MaddAddam by Margaret Atwood
Notes and Favorites: Third in the MaddAddam trilogy. “Because if these people cannot sing, they will be like . . . they will be like nothing. They will be like stones.” p 290

NOVEMBER
I finished nothing in November. Three months of no books finished. Could that have contributed to my reading challenge #epicfail?

DECEMBER
17. Tranny: Confessions of Punk Rock's Most Infamous Anarchist Sellout by Laura Jane Grace
Notes and Favorites: The description of Grace's daughter's birth is sweet and poignant. It’s clear that her child acts as a beacon throughout her grueling tour schedule, her gender dysphoria, and her drug and alcohol addiction.

18. California by Edan Lepucki
Notes and Favorites: I must be into dystopian novels this year. Does that say something about my lack of optimism in the state of our country right now?

Other stats: I read 6446 pages this year, averaging 358 pages per book, my longest book being 562 pages. I guess that doesn't sound too shabby even though I fell two books shy. Better luck to me in 2018!

I have already heard from some of my Facebook friends, but I am curious about the rest of you:
 

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