the k(no)w talent show
At this year’s family reunion, Billy and Will performed on the bongos for the ‘talent’ show.
It was something to see,
father and son.
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Filed under family matters, video | Comment (1)reunion
Family reunion, 1987 and 2007, hosted by us this year, in Charlottesville
Photos by my dad
The Friday after the fourth of July, seventy-some of out-of town relatives crowded into our sitting room to watch a home-movie: twenty years of family reunion footage spliced with random film moments by my brother. We were the hosts for this year’s reunion, and this was our opening event.
The film rolled and we saw Uncle Bug slam his fists atop one another, his signature dance move, ‘the hammer.’ Then Rhett Butler, in Gone With the Wind, offered up his famous ‘frankly’ line. Afterwards Uncle Frank filled the screen, rubbing his head in a beautiful frenzied dance.
There was also a clip of Johnny Carson with some strange marsupial on his head—its thin stripped tail curled behind his ear. Then a close-up of Uncle Sammy, the baby of my mother’s siblings, who died too soon. Uncle Sammy was followed by three aunties dancing, their big shirts glowing, their thin legs silhouetted, as they swayed steadily, gaining momentum.
When the movie ended, everyone meandered out to the porch, and eventually down the long driveway. The evening sky seemed reluctant to let go of the last bit of light. And I felt something, too, as I considered the weekend before us, this rare time together, time’s shortness and its elasticity.
I held my reunion shirt close—this year the color of marigolds—and prepared to dance.
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Filed under family matters, photographs | Comment (0)between events at tinhouse writer’s workshop
a few friends from the Tinhouse writer’s workshop, Portland, OR
photo by me
I do it after class, after Aimee Bender tells us that stories are not composed of characters and conflicts exactly, but just words lined up on the page.
And again after Marie Howe reads startling poems at the Cerf auditorium, in front of the beaver pond…
And even after chatting with Sara and David and Marcos and all the other lovely, clever writers at round tables, on the bright green lawn…
After each event, I rush back to my dorm room to pump milk. I pull up my blouse and think about how—at home in Virginia—William is nursing from his bottle, milk from the freezer. Even at this distance, we are connected.
While I do it, I can’t do much of anything else. The machine moans tiredly—a kind of mechanical mewing. One drip follows the next. The dixie cup fills. It is a full but lonely kind of waiting. A cost of being here. I pour the milk out in the shared sink and hurry back to my reward.
In Portland, on a trip to Powell’s, I picked up Elizabeth Ellen’s collection, Before You She was a Pit Bull—more of stapled-together zine, but what a powerful job Ellen does of lining up words.
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Filed under motherhood, writing | Comments (2)fellow writers
Aimee Bender’s workshop group, Reed College, Portland, OR
Photo thanks to Lisa Blackwell
airport goodbye
Photo by Billy
I was sobbing when I walked through the metal detector.
Me suddenly on one side, Billy holding William on the other.
“Any liquids, any gels, in your carry-on?” the woman asked, and I shook my head. My hair fell from its pony tail.
She searched through my things anyway, only to confiscate my toothpaste.
When I looked back up, Billy and William were gone.
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Filed under family matters, motherhood, photographs | Comments (6)in the middle of the night
Photos by Billy
William has not been sleeping well.
In the middle of the night, his urgent cries wake me—my heart pounding with disproportionate panic. He’s only teething, I remind myself. I can only do so much to settle him. Even when I go into the nursery and pull him into my arms, he bucks, irritated that I have startled him more fully to wakefulness. But laying in bed listening is nearly impossible. I wait whole minutes for him to sooth himself—seven, thirteen—always odd numbers. Usually, in the last lines of the clock’s face turning, he falls silent again.
I will be leaving William for seven whole days starting Sunday. I will be going to the Tin House Workshop in Portland, Oregon, to a class led by Aimee Bender. I will sit with other writers, critiquing each others work. I hope it will inform and inspire me, bring more focus and energy into the last leg of my middle school story project.
But I am already a bit raw at the prospect of leaving my boy for so long. My organs feel too big for their spaces—like in an overfilled suitcase. I know William will be alright, that he’ll be in good hands with Billy and the grandparents. But what about me? How will I manage? Will I be able to hear those cries from my quiet dorm room?
I’ll be listening for them.
Who have you left and how did it feel?
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Filed under family matters, motherhood, photographs, writing | Comments (4)the path to happiness (by steve)
My brother-in-law wrote this essay for himself and our extended family as he reflected on his long term use of prescription drugs to treat Attention Deficit Disorder.
By Steve
As someone who has taken Ritalin and Adderall for Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD) for more than 12 years–beginning in college and stopping one month ago–I have some insight into the usefulness and harm of prescribing these drugs for young people.
Simply stated, ADD medication is speed. It allows you to concentrate on things you don’t enjoy, resulting in better grades in school. This is probably the #1 reason it remains so popular. After all, kids need to get good grades, be accepted into a good college, seem smart and be successful.
Remember the classes you loved? It was easy to study for and attend those classes, right? You actually looked forward to it. Now remember the classes you thought were boring, hated? The last thing you wanted to do was study, go to class, and read those text books.
The beauty and downfall of ADD medication is that it helps you concentrate on things that you otherwise wouldn’t; it helps you get good grades in classes you find boring, or hate. This may seem like a good thing–but ultimately, it’s not.
The key to happiness is doing what you love. When you are passionate about something, it’s easy to concentrate. You do not need chemical help. The task at hand is engaging. That is life: we enjoy some things more than others, and pursuing paths in life that we love help us feel more fulfilled and passionate. And so it’s okay, even necessary, that some things ‘float your boat’ more than others.
But speed enables you to go down paths you normally would not choose. Speed skews your judgment.
At the age of 32, I’ve recently stopped taking Adderall for health reasons; I’ve had some major changes take place in my life. As I’ve come out of a drug induced fog over the last month, I am realizing that I DONT LOVE MY JOB. I actually don’t even like it.
I have been postponing taking a risk and pursuing my passion in life–teaching people how to race sailboats–because Adderall has allowed me to concentrate on things I do not enjoy. It has helped make tedious items seem less tedious to me. In fact, I could not have done my job for the past six years without speed!
It was the same with getting good grades in college for my accounting degree. Accounting bored me to tears pre-Adderall. Post Adderall, my grades went from C’s to almost all A’s. Everyone was happy: the doctors, my parents, my teachers. I enjoyed the results too. Accounting was actually somewhat interesting while on speed.
ANYTHING is interesting when on speed.
The problem is that more and more kids are being drugged into doing things they do not enjoy. Their success is being measured by grades alone, to the potential detriment of their health and happiness. Some of the best thinkers in history had a tough time in school: Einstein, Edison and Gates, and countless others. Luckily, for all of us, Adderall and Ritalin were not an option, or else maybe they too would have focused on tedious work, rather than doing what they loved.
Are we prescribing these drugs to millions of youth–risking stunted growth, increased heart rate, suppression of appetite, future addiction issues–all for the perceived success of good grades and better behavior? Yes. “Little Johnny is getting all A’s now and the teachers say he is not disruptive in class, and he actually lost a few pounds too!” Life is great. Meanwhile, Little Johnny, who does not know any better, is jacked out of his mind, heart rate soaring, not hungry, not sleeping well, but studying the crap out of something that bores him to tears. He is a walking depressed zombie. I was for 12 years. I know.
Methamphetamines kill millions of Americans. ADD medications are almost identical, yet they are prescribed for more and more kids each year. I have emerged from the fog of speed, and I can tell you from experience that I am happier, smarter, and filled with passion for the first time in over a decade. Let your kids find their own way. Even it if means they may not get all A’s and you may get the occasional teacher complaint. Do it for the love of your child.
Here is another article on the subject.
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Filed under family matters, the world we live in | Comment (1)