Month: November 2006

Ethan

Ethan: the brother I never had. Or, more accurately, the brother I DO have, though we weren’t technically born of the same parents. Last night was the formal celebration of Ethan’s dad’s receiving of the French merit d’agricole. We had such a lovely time at the Fly Club drinking all kinds of absurd wine.
Ethan and I met when I was 3 weeks old and he was 7 weeks old. Apparently we hit it off and we’ve been dear friends ever since. He was in our wedding, he’s Whit’s godfather (at right on the christening day with last week’s bride, Gloria – in fact we were all classmates at Exeter), and he’s my oldest and dearest friend. “We were ring around the rosy children, we were circles around the sun” – James Taylor’s Never Die Young has always made me think of Ethan. 32 years of memories, impossible to even make a dent in them here. We were only in school together very briefly – for 6 months at BB&N in 7th grade and for 2 years at Exeter for 11th and 12th. At our Exeter graduation we had a picnic with all EIGHT of our grandparents in attendance – that’s on the short list. I have Ethan in mind a lot as I think about raising Whit -he’s the closest experience I’ve had of a boy growing up, but more importantly I think he’s peerless: he combines intelligence, sensitivity, humor, great compassion, and an incredible artistic passion. Ethan and Tyler’s lives have been intertwined with Hilary’s and mine from the beginning. When I watch Gracie with James and Charlie I think of the Vogts, and of the extraordinary gift of “family friends.”

I had a disaster today. I inadvertently deleted 2/3 of the pictures from Grace’s birthday party without getting them onto my computer. I am happy to report – amazed, even – that I got them back. Click here to find the downloadable software that brought them all back. After I got over my elation I started thinking it’s a little creepy that an empty memory card actually still has 200+ images on it … odd to consider all the things you think are “erased,” gone, and are still salvageable. Anyway, just wanted to share my delight at the recovery, and thanks to all who helped. Grace’s birthday party pictures are here on tabblo.

I’ve been listening to Christmas music all day. I blame my passionate fondness for Christmas carols on my Dad, in whose house the British eunuchs warble constantly from Halloween to Easter. The air had the crispness of winter in it today and I looked up and realized that most of the leaves are already off of the trees. Where has this autumn gone? Tomorrow morning is Grace’s birthday party so I will surely have some stories to share from that.
This morning the birthday girl and I had a dance around the kitchen to one of my all-time (non-seasonal) favorite songs: Josh Groban’s You Raise Me Up. That song gives me shivers every time I listen to it. Isn’t this the very definition of love – in our finest moments, to make each other better than we would be alone.

When I am down and, oh my soul, so weary;
When troubles come and my heart burdened be;
Then, I am still and wait here in the silence,
Until you come and sit awhile with me.
You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains;
You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas;
I am strong, when I am on your shoulders;
You raise me up… To more than I can be.


Halloween. Yep, still hate it. My aggravation that it’s an excuse for women to dress up like whores has morphed into an irritation that it’s an excuse for boys to be violent. One mom told me her son said he didn’t care what he was for Halloween as “long as he had a weapon.” Ohhhh-kay. As I escorted my female firefighter around Beacon Hill, I was also surprised at how little progress we’ve made. She was met at almost every door with a perplexed series of comments: “A fireman! Oh, no, a firegirl … a fireperson?” … does it matter? But, Grace and Whit had fun, and that’s the point, I guess. (now what to do with the enormous bag of candy?).

More substantially, lately I’m definitely feeling that whole life-without-skin feeling. I swear these little people have made me even more emotionally aware and vulnerable than I was before (and those who know me well know that’s a tall order). I often feel like one of those people who have issues with sensory overload; mine is just emotional overload. The smallest and most unexpected things bring me to tears and give me that pit of the stomach sensation. I was at a private school open house last weekend and as the headmaster told the story of Orpheus and Eurydice I sat there with tears rolling down my face. Viewing the kindergarten classrooms and hearing about the school’s pedagogical philosophy made me want to sob. I can’t quite explain why; somehow Grace and Whit have made me feel the passage of time a hundred times more keenly, have provided a tangible marker of how quickly life flows by. I am so aware that this is a blessed and unique moment in my life, and somehow I am not experiencing the moment enough, not living with as much joy as this time should merit. The cliche is right on the money: the days are long and the years are short. And, with my predisposition towards introspection, it doesn’t take much to throw me overboard into the ocean of considering what I want to do with my short time here; where I want to spend and focus my one precious life.
As usual I rely on the words of those more articulate than I:
“Put your ear down next to your soul and listen hard.” – Anne Sexton (near and dear to my heart, she is)
“Your heart often knows things before your mind does.” – Polly Adler
“We cannot tell what may happen to us in the strange medley of life. But we can decide what happens in us, how we take it, what we do with it – and that is what really counts in the end.” – Joseph Fort Newton
“The unendurable is the beginning of the curve to joy.” – Djuna Barnes