White Hair

I swear there are some times when I think I can actually feel my hair turning white.  It's a subtle sensation, hard to describe, just around the temples and ears.  It could be stress related, but it's different than my usual reaction to stress, which likes to manifest itself in the pit of my stomach.  I prefer to believe instead that I'm just feeling myself growing older.  Like the leaves on the trees this time of year, my hair is just changing color.  Sadly, just like those trees, I have fewer "leaves" than I used to.

I can remember the first white hair I found on my head.  There it was, front and center, a single white kinky strand intermixed with its straight brown neighbors.  The hair surprised me for a couple of reasons.  First, its length suggested that it had been residing on my head for awhile.  I wondered how it had gone unnoticed for so long.  Second, the kinkiness was something new for me.  My hair has always been very straight (so straight that a Vietnamese stylist once remarked, "You have hair like an Asian man, thick and straight.").  As I looked at this white kinky hair I wondered if perhaps, with time, I would end up with hair resembling Albert Einstein's.  That would've been kind of cool.  Alas, only the first few white hairs were kinky, almost like my body was experimenting with my look (let's try a new color, maybe some curl).  Soon enough everything went back to straight.

At first, the white hairs showed up infrequently enough that I could track each of them.  As the frequency increased, I was reminded of standing outside on a winter day watching the first, isolated snowflakes fall before a big storm.  At some point, there are enough flakes falling that you say to yourself, "It's snowing." At this point, you stop looking at the individual snowflakes and instead consider their cumulative effect.  It didn't take long for me to reach this point with my hair.

Backyard Adventure

A couple of weeks ago, N. was playing in the back yard with the neighbor boys, H. and C..  They had found a toad and they were having a great time studying it.  Usually, when they play in the back yard the game eventually devolves into some sort of sword play with large sticks.  This time however, things were much calmer and, consequently, the parental oversight was a bit less vigilant.  After watching them watch the toad for a few minutes, I went inside and sprawled out on the couch.  I had the window open so I could hear if the dynamic changed outside.

Mostly what I heard was a discussion about the toad.  There was talk about building it a habitat out of a cardboard box.  Then, a bucket was suggested.  This led to a conversation regarding whether toads needed water and what they ate.  In the end, I was pleased to hear them decide to release the poor creature back into the wildness of our garden.

After that, I can't say I remember much of what they did.  I guess I dozed off a little bit.  The next thing I remember hearing is my wife asking me, "Did you hear what he said?  He said something bit him!"  I was still shaking off my brief nap when N. came in holding up a finger.

It seems that after the toad was released, the boys became concerned that our cat might hurt it.  So, they began to keep close watch on the cat.  The cat did not notice the toad.  It did, however, find some other critter in the yard.  We're still not sure what it was, but based on the description from N., we think it was a shrew.

The boys did not want the cat to hurt the shrew so they tried to protect it.  They ran enough interference that the shrew was able to escape the kitty and crawl under a plastic toy for cover.  N. was worried it might be hurt and he put his hand down to lift the toy.  And that's when he was bitten.

As bites go, it was a pretty small one.  There was no blood and I couldn't actually see any wound without the aid of a strong magnifying glass.  A. took him to the Urgent Care clinic where they cleaned his finger and applied a couple of band-aids.  They also consulted the rabies hot line and informed us that it was very unlikely that N. could have contracted that dreaded disease.  Even so, we were supposed to watch N. for changes in mood or behavior.

Watching a 7 yr old for mood changes is kind of like watching for mosquitoes on the back porch.  Eventually, you're going to see one, and then another, and another, etc..

He seems fine now.

Up There

I stepped outside this morning and was struck by how many stars I could see.  Usually, it's hard to see the stars at night because of the ambient light from the city.  I've noticed that the stars seem brighter in the early morning.  I don't know if this is because of a change in ambient light or if the earth has turned toward brighter objects by this time.  At four-thirty this morning the sky over my house was clear and there were many stars visible.  I paused to take it in before continuing on with the start of my day.  I didn't get outside again until six o'clock.  By then, the stars were mostly gone.

The stars this morning were lovely and it seemed like there were a lot of them but I know I wasn't getting the whole picture.  I remember looking up at the clear night sky on the farm when I was young.  It was a lot darker on the farm and the sky was absolutely teeming with lights, some so small and numerous that together they almost looked like clouds.  The stars weren't just overhead but off to every horizon.  This morning, as I looked at the sky, I looked at the stars "up there".  On the farm, the heavens seemed to come down and wrap themselves around the earth.  There was no "up there", the stars were everywhere.

I suppose some might look at the full night sky and find reason to feel small or insignificant.  I never did.  I looked up at our massive, incredible universe with the realization that I was a part of it.  Nothing small or insignificant about that.

Lemonade!

A few weeks ago, B. and N. set up a lemonade stand at the end of our driveway.  The Minnesota State Fair was happening just a few blocks away and there was a decent amount of foot traffic past the house.  After a few hours of selling Kool-Aid and cookies, they'd raked in around twenty dollars and exhausted both their supplies and their interest.  The following Saturday, we returned from the fair to find that the boys who live next door (H. and C.) had set up a stand at the end of their driveway.  They'd been good customers for us and we returned the favor, enjoying some lemonade and cookies.  I must admit, they opted for a higher quality product in both the drink and cookie departments (plus, their prices were lower).  They had also set up a radio at their table to broadcast the Twins game, an enticing lure to potentially hook a customer or two.

After finishing his drink, N. immediately joined their venture.  He ran along the curb and shouted at anyone he could see in the distance (Lemonade! Lemonade!).  His involvement was short-lived as it was almost dinner time and H. and C. were forced to close up shop.  Still, the boys had fun and decided they would try running a stand together the next day.  So, on Sunday, I made lemonade while N. prepared the stand.

N. decided that the radio idea was a good one and wanted to do something similar.  Instead of broadcasting a baseball game, he wanted to play music.  I ran an extension cord down to the table and set up a portable CD player.  I brought out a couple of kid's CDs I noticed near the player but N. wanted nothing to do with them.  "I know just the music I want, Dad", he told me.  It turns out the music he wanted was the Beatles One CD.

Soon enough, the boys were set up and open for business.  For whatever reason, customers were few and far between.  The boys didn't seem to care.  They sat near the curb, drinking lemonade and eating cookies and mostly getting along.  There was one contentious moment when H. set the CD player to loop on "Yesterday".  He said he did so because he really liked the song.  N. complained that he didn't think it was a good song for selling lemonade.  By this point, N. had donned a robot costume and had been dancing in the driveway.  Dancing to "Yesterday" was not nearly as much fun as, say, "Help!".  N. turned to me for a resolution to the situation.  I could understand both boys.  Like H., I like the song "Yesterday".  But, I had to agree with N. that it probably wasn't the ideal lemonade selling tune.  I suggested that they just let the CD play through all the songs before repeating.  That way, we'd still hear "Yesterday" occasionally.  They agreed to this, but first N. needed to loop "Day Tripper" a few times to satisfy his robot dance cravings.

As the afternoon progressed, the lemonade stand gradually transformed into a picnic.  For the number of sales they had, they could have just as well been set up in the back yard.  This did not dampen their spirits in the least.  In their minds it was a great day.  I forget sometimes that there's a big difference between wanting to have a lemonade stand and wanting to sell lemonade.

The Big Jump

The nights leading up to the first day of school were difficult ones for N..  He was worried about what lay ahead in second grade.  As he put it, "Second grade is a big jump, Dad.  It's a big jump.  It's not like going from kindergarten to first grade, it's a bigger jump." He was also worried that he had mostly forgotten how to read and that he would therefore fail second grade.  These worries and fears never seem to surface until he's in bed, tucked in for the night.  I think up until that moment he's too busy living in the present to contemplate the future.  I understand this.  I've spent my share of sleepless nights, worrying about all sorts of things, big and small.  Still, I wish he'd sometimes voice his concerns before bedtime.

Yesterday was the first day of school and, by all accounts, he had a wonderful day.  Many of his best friends are in his class this year.  He sits at a table with three very nice kids, all friends.  One would think all these things would mean that perhaps bedtime would go a bit smoother.  Still, last night, we could hear him "not going to sleep" for some time after lights out.  I went up to see what the trouble was and found him staring at the ceiling.  "Tomorrow's going to be a bad day, Dad.  Today was fun, but that's just because it was the first day and we didn't really do anything except find our desks and stuff.  Tomorrow the real work is going to start."

I tried to offer some words of comfort, but I knew they wouldn't do much good.  I don't know for certain what second grade will be like for him and he knows it.  When you're lying in bed scared, even the smallest speck of uncertainty can become a mountain of dread.  I laid down next to him and shut my mouth.  He snuggled in close and seemed comforted to have me there.  I'd like to be able to say that he immediately fell asleep.  Unfortunately, this was not the case.  He squirmed and fidgeted and tossed and turned for quite awhile.  I watched him as he would roll away from me only to return a moment later.  Eventually, he drifted off, with his arm draped across my neck.

The whole episode seriously cut into my night and pushed back my own bedtime.  This was particularly painful since I was planning on getting up early the next morning.  As I stumbled into bed, it would have been easy to be annoyed with the whole incident but I wasn't, at least not too much.  Instead, I felt a certain contentment that my mere presence could comfort him.  It made me feel like I must be doing something right as a father.  One less thing to worry about as I stare at the ceiling at night.

Shaving

I recently switched from using an electric razor back to a hand razor and shaving cream.  I've been using an electric for quite awhile so it is interesting to see how the industry had advanced.  The last time I used a razor the big innovation was three blades.  Now, I see they are up to five.  I think the hardest part about adding blades is coming up with a marketable justification for it.  I recall when they went from one blade to two with the reason that the first blade would pull up the whisker (ouch!) so the second one could slice it cleanly off.  I still remember the animation of the hair being clipped and then recessing back under the skin.  I don't know why we needed a third or fourth or fifth blade.  I'm sure right now there's a group of people sitting around a table staring at a six blade razor and brain storming about why that sixth blade makes it better.  I can't really blame them.  There's only so much you can do with a razor and adding blades seems like the obvious change.  I checked the Gillette web site and they're also touting a razor with a spotlight - to make sure you don't overlook a spot.  Of course, their site also has a link called "Body Shaving - How and Why".  I imagine the spotlight might come in handy when you're shaving all your nooks and crannies.

One problem I've always had with shaving is that I can never seem to keep my face moist enough to avoid razor burn.  To address this, I've taken to shaving in the shower.  A hot, steamy shower is really the ideal place to shave except that you can't see what you're doing.  I tried bringing a mirror with me but it fogged up.  I've decided a foggy mirror is worse than no mirror at all.  Now, I shave mostly by touch, which works pretty well for the most part.  I did notice as I left for work this morning that I'd gone a little too high by my right ear.  I think if I just tilt my head a bit everything will look even and no one will notice.

Morning Moment

This morning I had one of those moments when I wished I had a camera.  As I drove home from the Y, I passed a park.  It was early, and the moon, full and orange, hung low in the sky to my right.  The sun was just beginning to announce its arrival with streaks of gold and pink to my left.  A low-hanging fog had settled over most of the park, heaviest over the open soccer fields.

At the corner of the park closest me there was a small flower garden and a group of benches arranged in a semi-circle.  An elderly gentleman in a navy blue running suit was sitting, hunched over, at one of the benches.  He had his back to the park and the moon and was instead watching the cars pass by on the street.  He held a cigarette and its thin trail of smoke seemed to mix with the fog around him.

Kind of a surreal way to start the day.

Welcome Week at the U

As I walked at lunch today, something felt different.  Like Darth Vader sensing the presence of his former master, I felt a familiar spirit manifesting itself in Dinkytown.  It took only a moment to realize what had changed - the students were back.  The shops and school had awakened after a carefree summer of waiting.  Sure, the stores were open all summer and they were only too happy to sell me a sandwich or a cup of coffee.  But they were merely marking time until their true customers came back.  Like grizzlies waiting along the river for the salmon run, each shop has been preparing for their return, hoping to catch as many as possible.