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Ithaka (excerpt)

When you set out for Ithaka
ask that your way be long,
full of adventure, full of instruction.
Ask that your way be long.
At many a summer dawn to enter
– with what gratitude, what joy
ports seen for the first time;
to stop at Phoenician trading centres,
and to buy good merchandise,
mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
and sensuous perfumes as lavishly as you can;
to visit many Egyptian cities,
to gather stores of knowledge from the learned.
Have Ithaka always in your mind.
Your arrival there is what you were destined for.
But do not in the least hurry the journey.
Better that it last for years,
so that when you reach the island you are old,
rich with all that you have gained on the way,
not expecting Ithaka to give you wealth.
Ithaka gave you the splendid journey.
Without her you would not have set out.
She hasn’t anything else to give you.
And if you find her poor, Ithaka has not decieved you.
So wise have you become, of such experience,
that you will already have understood what these Ithakas mean.

Always in search of more experience, more richness, more challenge. Cavafy knows, and I know Mr. Valhouli did too.  How I miss you, James Valhouli.

Today was a big day: I took Gracie to see her first Nutcracker. We went with Aime and Catherine Card and the girls were positively spellbound. All the ballerinas were “princesses” to Grace and she’s still talking about the “nutcrack.”
And, we’ve started reading our first Real Book: Alice in Wonderland. I’m impressed with how she follows the plot and she keeps asking to read the “wonderland book.”

In other news, Whit took a bite out of Grace’s leg today. Literally a bite. Grace is going to covered in bruises, just like her Mum.

Throw Your Arms Around the World at Christmastime

A lot of people are commenting on this year’s card’s tagline. Few seem to remember that it’s from “Do They Know It’s Christmas?” by Band-Aid, one of those late-80s Feed the World type of affairs. Our friend Bob Geldof led the thing. I love that song, and love that it takes me back to being in London … the most vivid memory of that time is of the annual St Pauls’ Girls’ School Christmas (yes, Christmas, not holiday) concert. At the end of the concert every doorway opening onto the Great Hall was packed with girls leaning into the room, singing along to “Tomorrow Shall Be My Dancing Day” (which remains my favorite carol). The whole Great Hall lit up with candles and wreaths and what felt like thousands of swelling voices. I wish my scanner worked because I have some great pictures of those days.

Just back from the final nursery school assembly of the fall. Third year in a row it made me cry. There is something about 84 children and assorted family members sitting on the floor in a big circle singing Jingle Bells that gets to me. That whole without-skin, passage-of-time thing. And the incredible innocence in the room. The looks on the parents’ faces as they sing the classic song. This year the yellow room sang This Little Light of Mine and that just slayed me – all I could think about was what I can do to make sure Gracie DOES take her light around the world, how do I help her be proud and strong and confident and humble. Ay carumba.

And, Providence rears its head. Stay tuned.

And, finally, 3pm champagne with the ladies – will have some stories and pictures for sure.

More to come, but for now an addition to the Museum of Hilarious Commentary by Gracie:

Walking home from the Somerset this afternoon, I was having a tricky time with my heels on the cobblestones. Grace wanted to run and finally I had to say to her, “I can’t go as fast as you can, Grace.” To which she replies, completely guilelessly: “You’re slow because you’re a mummy, and you’re a little bit old, right?”