...
ADIEU
I've decided that it's time to hang up my blogger hat.
It's been a fun couple of years. And a magnificent 18 months of Fridays with Sam. Because those Fridays are now history, and because new Fridays will not happen for a long time, if ever, I'm left with a blog focused on remembering past glories. Not good. The original intention of Youngsamwise.com was to keep distant friends and relatives updated on his rather rapid and exciting development. For obvious geographical reasons that can't happen now. Oh well, life goes on. I count myself blessed for the time I've had with him.
I realize that I'm getting older, and more sappy, and more sentimental, and the death of things (even something as silly as a blog) hits me a bit harder than it did when I was young and invulnerable. So. I confess that I find it hard to let it go.
But I must. Believe it or not, I really don't want to be one of those old folk who whip out grandkids' pictures whether someone wants to see them or not.
I first thought about all this when Paul recently commented on my ability to stretch one week in Zagreb into a dozen posts. And I was only part way through the week! I had to sit myself down and ask myself what this blog's point was. The best that I could come up with is that it's a long love letter to Sam, for him to read when he's a young man and I'm gone. Something for him to remember this old fart by, to know that his Grandfather loved him. And if that is so, it would be better done in private, so that both he and I are spared further embarrassment.
I'll keep the archives up, for a sentimental peek at times when I miss him.
Which is all the time.
He's quite a boy.
Bye all, and thanks for your kind words and thoughts about Youngsamwsie during the past couple of years.
....
Sunday, May 08, 2005
Saturday, April 23, 2005
...
(click to enlarge)
JOY ON THE BOOBY TRAIN
Apparently Sam had been wanting to ride on something called the "Bubi" train for quite some time. Not knowing what the word Bubi meant, nor even how to pronounce it (S&P were probably too embarrassed to ask the locals), it had become known simply as the booby train. It leaves from the main square, and takes children and tourists through some of the Zagreb streets.
Sam rather enjoyed himself as we boarded the train as its sole passengers. He arranged us such that we each had a whole seat/row to ourselves, with Sam of course at the front.
He rode like a King, waving to the crowds, and grinning like a madman.
(click to enlarge)
What a life.
...
(click to enlarge)
JOY ON THE BOOBY TRAIN
Apparently Sam had been wanting to ride on something called the "Bubi" train for quite some time. Not knowing what the word Bubi meant, nor even how to pronounce it (S&P were probably too embarrassed to ask the locals), it had become known simply as the booby train. It leaves from the main square, and takes children and tourists through some of the Zagreb streets.
Sam rather enjoyed himself as we boarded the train as its sole passengers. He arranged us such that we each had a whole seat/row to ourselves, with Sam of course at the front.
He rode like a King, waving to the crowds, and grinning like a madman.
(click to enlarge)
What a life.
...
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
...
HOW COULD WE FORGET THE ICE CREAM (and other wanderings)
(click to enlarge)
Two things are happening as Sam gets older: his shadow is growing, and he is
noticing it. These are really profound changes, and watching them happen is exhilirating.
The best way to do this, in my opinion, is to wander. And so we all tried to wander often while we were in Zagreb. Here's one of those wanders:
The perfect place to start was the the ice cream parlor. The ice cream in Zagreb is simply the best. I've had nothing like it in this country. Cold, creamy, with a remarkable variety of flavors.
When we were back out on the sidewalk, Sam managed to get hold of my hat, as we continued the wander:
(click to see this goofy kid in the goofy hat explode off your screen)
One of the de riguer parts of wandering in European cities is the visit to the local cathedral. Not sure why, exactly. Maybe because it's simply big and old. Unless I was a practicing Catholic, and could appreciate it in that context, I just feel like a stupid tourist. I like the fountains out front a lot better, particularly when a small boy is ready to pounce. And then does:
After the cathedral, the wandering returned in earnest. Sam chose a nice mode of transport.
We ended the stroll with one of those things that are near and dear to grandparents heart: buying the kid a bike. And one for the Mom as well.
Sometimes you just don't know where your steps are gonna take you.
...
HOW COULD WE FORGET THE ICE CREAM (and other wanderings)
(click to enlarge)
Two things are happening as Sam gets older: his shadow is growing, and he is
noticing it. These are really profound changes, and watching them happen is exhilirating.
The best way to do this, in my opinion, is to wander. And so we all tried to wander often while we were in Zagreb. Here's one of those wanders:
The perfect place to start was the the ice cream parlor. The ice cream in Zagreb is simply the best. I've had nothing like it in this country. Cold, creamy, with a remarkable variety of flavors.
When we were back out on the sidewalk, Sam managed to get hold of my hat, as we continued the wander:
(click to see this goofy kid in the goofy hat explode off your screen)
One of the de riguer parts of wandering in European cities is the visit to the local cathedral. Not sure why, exactly. Maybe because it's simply big and old. Unless I was a practicing Catholic, and could appreciate it in that context, I just feel like a stupid tourist. I like the fountains out front a lot better, particularly when a small boy is ready to pounce. And then does:
After the cathedral, the wandering returned in earnest. Sam chose a nice mode of transport.
We ended the stroll with one of those things that are near and dear to grandparents heart: buying the kid a bike. And one for the Mom as well.
Sometimes you just don't know where your steps are gonna take you.
...
Sunday, April 17, 2005
....
A WALK TO SONJA'S YOGA STUDIO
(click to enlarge)
The reason for Sonja, Paul, and Sam's residence in Croatia is the opportunity to bring quality yoga instruction to Zagreb. Sonja has been very successful in increasing attendance at NAVA yoga studio. She is well-loved by her students. Too well-loved of course, for those of us who want them to come home soon. It's a long way to January 2006 when they plan to return This is assuming they don't move to England to take advantage of the great health care system they have there. Important because Sam has had a couple of asthma attacks that needed good medical care. One of these attacks happened last month while Paul and Sam were visiting Sam's wonderful Aunt and Uncle, Deb and Adrian. The ambulance ride, hospital visit, and all his care were free. And they even gave him a nebulizer for home use. Very, very different from what happens in this supremely unenlightened country. Even in Zagreb they had a home visit by a local pediatrician. Unheard of here.
Sonja, Paul, and Sam live in the old city part of Zagreb, which sits high above the rest of the city. Their apartment is in a building hundreds of years old. On one of our days there we walked with Sonja to her studio. First we walked up a long flight of stairs. Then up another, longer flight of stairs (if you look closely, you can see, far down in the distance, Sam coming up).
At the top, Sam is pleased. Especially because now we were starting down.
At the bottom we walked through an alleyway, then out onto the street, before arriving finally outside the studio (which as you can see in the photo is on the second floor of a building overlooking the main square.
A lovely walk.
....
A WALK TO SONJA'S YOGA STUDIO
(click to enlarge)
The reason for Sonja, Paul, and Sam's residence in Croatia is the opportunity to bring quality yoga instruction to Zagreb. Sonja has been very successful in increasing attendance at NAVA yoga studio. She is well-loved by her students. Too well-loved of course, for those of us who want them to come home soon. It's a long way to January 2006 when they plan to return This is assuming they don't move to England to take advantage of the great health care system they have there. Important because Sam has had a couple of asthma attacks that needed good medical care. One of these attacks happened last month while Paul and Sam were visiting Sam's wonderful Aunt and Uncle, Deb and Adrian. The ambulance ride, hospital visit, and all his care were free. And they even gave him a nebulizer for home use. Very, very different from what happens in this supremely unenlightened country. Even in Zagreb they had a home visit by a local pediatrician. Unheard of here.
Sonja, Paul, and Sam live in the old city part of Zagreb, which sits high above the rest of the city. Their apartment is in a building hundreds of years old. On one of our days there we walked with Sonja to her studio. First we walked up a long flight of stairs. Then up another, longer flight of stairs (if you look closely, you can see, far down in the distance, Sam coming up).
At the top, Sam is pleased. Especially because now we were starting down.
At the bottom we walked through an alleyway, then out onto the street, before arriving finally outside the studio (which as you can see in the photo is on the second floor of a building overlooking the main square.
A lovely walk.
....
Friday, April 15, 2005
...
A DAY AT JARUN
(click to see this beautiful boy bigger)
The days in Zagreb are starting to blur. They haven't quite faded yet, but they do seem very far away now. Time is inexorable, in both directions: future and past. The past recedes at an ever quickening speed as I grow older. But the future seems to come as slowly as ever; at least when I'm waiting to see Sam.
The last week in June is next. Very, very far away.
And something as extraordinary as this is so far in the past now (7/24/03) that I don't remember WHO I was, much less what was happening on that day (but it is with enormous gratitude that I remember the feeling of that moment; I remember the meaning-of-life epiphany of that moment).
So let's see what I remember of our day in Jarun. Actually, it probably is not a place, but a thing, like an amusement park. So I think I really mean to talk about our day AT Jarun (I wonder what the word means?). I'll have to check with Sonja.
Jarun is a large recreation area just south of Zagreb; a holdover from the communist era. The Commies were real big on sport, and on places for workers to relax, and Jarun is a good example of what they could do when they decided something was worth doing. Jarun is very big, and quite lovely.
To get there, you take a 30 minute tram ride from the main square (near Sam's apartment). I had been having a good time, on the morning's Sam was in school, riding Paul's bike through the city and environs. I had ridden down to Jarun, to take advantage of its bike paths, the previous day. When the family said they'd all like to go, and I wanted another bike ride, the solution seemed obvious: I would ride behind the tram. It was a bit stop-and-start, but fun.
In (at?) Jarun we stopped first at the swan pond, which was thick with swans and overseen by one hell of a king (or queen?) swan, who appeared to attack other swans in a remarkably random manner. But we fed them anyway, and tried to do it in a way that would keep Stalin-swan from eating it all. We were partially successful.
(click to enlarge)
From the swans (who we fed the state-approved popcorn from the helpful nearby vendor), we drifted over to an isolated beach. Covered with small stones, it was not a place for much sunbathing. But it was wonderful for throwing stones into the water; a time-honored father-son tradition. I've always wondered why it is such a guy-thing. Seems more than cultural; seems very primitive, and satisfying. Of course you want to avoid throwing things in the water that you would like to get back. It was a bit too cold to jump in after it (note the ice still on the lake in places), but Paul, in true I-can-fix-anything mode simply kept throwing stones behind it, and the ripples gradually caused it to drift to shore.
(click to enlarge)
From the beach it was time to promenade along the lakes. Paul took the bike, put Sam on it, and cruised slowly along, picking up ice cream along the way. Sam loves riding on the bike: he has his own seat up front, and stirrups for his feet. I had never seen such a truly cool bike seat for kids. Much better than riding behind, better than being stuck staring at at adult's back, as happens in this country. Comfortable, practical, and aesthetically marvelous. Paul felt the same way: he saw it one day, chased the bike, and asked where he could get one too.
All-in-all a nice afternoon.
On the way home it was Paul's turn to follow the tram. The Zagreb trams are fairly decent ways to get around. We could never figure out the ticketing system, though. Apparently it's an honor system. You can buy tickets at various newsstands, and then you're supposed to have it stamped by this machine on the tram (unless you were on one of the many trams that didn't have this machine), and if an inspector decides to visit the tram (we never saw one) and you don't have a stamped ticket, you have to pay a fine. Sometimes we bought a ticket, sometimes not. The primary reason to purchase the ticket was so that Sam could hold it. Something he never tired of doing.
At one of the stops I decided to jump off the tram, run behind it, and take a picture of the family inside. So I did. But either the tram was quicker than I thought or, more likely, I was slower than I thought. The tram closed its doors and drove off, with me chasing it madly. It was a long walk home. And I'm not sure the picture was worth it.
...
A DAY AT JARUN
(click to see this beautiful boy bigger)
The days in Zagreb are starting to blur. They haven't quite faded yet, but they do seem very far away now. Time is inexorable, in both directions: future and past. The past recedes at an ever quickening speed as I grow older. But the future seems to come as slowly as ever; at least when I'm waiting to see Sam.
The last week in June is next. Very, very far away.
And something as extraordinary as this is so far in the past now (7/24/03) that I don't remember WHO I was, much less what was happening on that day (but it is with enormous gratitude that I remember the feeling of that moment; I remember the meaning-of-life epiphany of that moment).
So let's see what I remember of our day in Jarun. Actually, it probably is not a place, but a thing, like an amusement park. So I think I really mean to talk about our day AT Jarun (I wonder what the word means?). I'll have to check with Sonja.
Jarun is a large recreation area just south of Zagreb; a holdover from the communist era. The Commies were real big on sport, and on places for workers to relax, and Jarun is a good example of what they could do when they decided something was worth doing. Jarun is very big, and quite lovely.
To get there, you take a 30 minute tram ride from the main square (near Sam's apartment). I had been having a good time, on the morning's Sam was in school, riding Paul's bike through the city and environs. I had ridden down to Jarun, to take advantage of its bike paths, the previous day. When the family said they'd all like to go, and I wanted another bike ride, the solution seemed obvious: I would ride behind the tram. It was a bit stop-and-start, but fun.
In (at?) Jarun we stopped first at the swan pond, which was thick with swans and overseen by one hell of a king (or queen?) swan, who appeared to attack other swans in a remarkably random manner. But we fed them anyway, and tried to do it in a way that would keep Stalin-swan from eating it all. We were partially successful.
(click to enlarge)
From the swans (who we fed the state-approved popcorn from the helpful nearby vendor), we drifted over to an isolated beach. Covered with small stones, it was not a place for much sunbathing. But it was wonderful for throwing stones into the water; a time-honored father-son tradition. I've always wondered why it is such a guy-thing. Seems more than cultural; seems very primitive, and satisfying. Of course you want to avoid throwing things in the water that you would like to get back. It was a bit too cold to jump in after it (note the ice still on the lake in places), but Paul, in true I-can-fix-anything mode simply kept throwing stones behind it, and the ripples gradually caused it to drift to shore.
(click to enlarge)
From the beach it was time to promenade along the lakes. Paul took the bike, put Sam on it, and cruised slowly along, picking up ice cream along the way. Sam loves riding on the bike: he has his own seat up front, and stirrups for his feet. I had never seen such a truly cool bike seat for kids. Much better than riding behind, better than being stuck staring at at adult's back, as happens in this country. Comfortable, practical, and aesthetically marvelous. Paul felt the same way: he saw it one day, chased the bike, and asked where he could get one too.
All-in-all a nice afternoon.
On the way home it was Paul's turn to follow the tram. The Zagreb trams are fairly decent ways to get around. We could never figure out the ticketing system, though. Apparently it's an honor system. You can buy tickets at various newsstands, and then you're supposed to have it stamped by this machine on the tram (unless you were on one of the many trams that didn't have this machine), and if an inspector decides to visit the tram (we never saw one) and you don't have a stamped ticket, you have to pay a fine. Sometimes we bought a ticket, sometimes not. The primary reason to purchase the ticket was so that Sam could hold it. Something he never tired of doing.
At one of the stops I decided to jump off the tram, run behind it, and take a picture of the family inside. So I did. But either the tram was quicker than I thought or, more likely, I was slower than I thought. The tram closed its doors and drove off, with me chasing it madly. It was a long walk home. And I'm not sure the picture was worth it.
...
Sunday, April 03, 2005
...
ZAGREB
DAY 2
(click to enlarge)
Our second day in Zagreb, and every day after that, was beautiful and sunny. We were fortunate to come to Zagreb on the day that Winter changed to Summer. Apparently this is normal, and we're told that the precipitous end to winter occurs literally overnight. Interesting.
But a walk in the sun was a nice way to start the day. Sam luxuriated under his sun umbrella.
Ah the usual day with Sam: starting with a visit to the local playground. You would think that, being in a foreign locale, with lovely sights, old buildings, thriving crowds, and all the other accoutrements of tourist wonderlands, I would have more than a few photos of these things. On returning to NYC I was somewhat shocked to see that I had almost none. That all were of Sam. While it does not surprise me, it does suggest that I need to open my eyes a bit wider.
Sure. Like that's gonna happen. No way. Maybe when Sam goes off to high school.
I've seen the world. Just wanna see the boy for now.
(click to enlarge)
So where was I? Oh yeah, the playground. We met a friend of his there, Phillip, and were kindly invited back to their apartment where Sam and Phillip engaged in a bit of parallel play.
My kind of day.
For those interested in Sonja and Paul's lovely apartment (that Paul spent a month working day and night to get fixed up), here are a few shots of the place:
outside the front door
from dining room into living room
kitchen
from entranceway into living room
from bedroom into sam's room
Sam's room
(til next post... it gets real exciting real soon... yeah, right)
...
ZAGREB
DAY 2
(click to enlarge)
Our second day in Zagreb, and every day after that, was beautiful and sunny. We were fortunate to come to Zagreb on the day that Winter changed to Summer. Apparently this is normal, and we're told that the precipitous end to winter occurs literally overnight. Interesting.
But a walk in the sun was a nice way to start the day. Sam luxuriated under his sun umbrella.
Ah the usual day with Sam: starting with a visit to the local playground. You would think that, being in a foreign locale, with lovely sights, old buildings, thriving crowds, and all the other accoutrements of tourist wonderlands, I would have more than a few photos of these things. On returning to NYC I was somewhat shocked to see that I had almost none. That all were of Sam. While it does not surprise me, it does suggest that I need to open my eyes a bit wider.
Sure. Like that's gonna happen. No way. Maybe when Sam goes off to high school.
I've seen the world. Just wanna see the boy for now.
(click to enlarge)
So where was I? Oh yeah, the playground. We met a friend of his there, Phillip, and were kindly invited back to their apartment where Sam and Phillip engaged in a bit of parallel play.
My kind of day.
For those interested in Sonja and Paul's lovely apartment (that Paul spent a month working day and night to get fixed up), here are a few shots of the place:
outside the front door
from dining room into living room
kitchen
from entranceway into living room
from bedroom into sam's room
Sam's room
(til next post... it gets real exciting real soon... yeah, right)
...
Sunday, March 27, 2005
ZAGREB, CROATIA
MARCH 13 - 20
DAY 1 AND 2
I'd be better at posting these things if I wasn't so depressed...
What keeps me going is knowing that Sam is having a great time in Croatia, and getting experiences he could not have here in NYC (I'm trying, I'm trying!).
Our visit with Sam was both more wonderful than I had expected, and much harder than I expected. Like life, I guess.
It was with great pleasure that we hopped in the cab for the trip to the airport, and our first sight of Sam since January 1st. I love the airport, expecially if I'm the one who is flying. Perhaps if I flew more often it would become routine and maybe even annoying. But I ain't there yet. It's still really cool.
We were to take Alitalia to Milan, and from there to Zagreb. Bit of excitement/trepidation: we discovered our plane, which was delayed, would
a) not land in Milan until 30 minutes after the Zagreb flight was scheduled to leave, and
b) if we missed that 9 a.m. plane, the next one wouldn't leave Milan til 9pm.
So, hoping against hope, and not wanting to spend 12 hours in the Milan airport and miss 12 hours with Sam, we dashed from the plane when it landed in Milan, resisted the urge to run through the security guards, and arrived breathlessly at the departure desk for the Zagreb flight.
The plane hadn't left.
Because they had yet to locate the crew.
It was Alitalia. I should have figured: the Italian's loose definition of time is both well known, infuriating, and wonderful.
We boarded the small prop plane, caught our first sight of Croatia through the propellor of the plane, and landed at noon. Very glad to be there. We found out later that the 9pm plane "is usually cancelled," which would have meant being trapped in the airport for 24 hours.
Of course our luggage hadn't made it.
Nothing mattered though, if we could be with Sam. Sam was expecting us, but had become so anxious with excitement that when we did arrive he buried his head in Sonja's neck and wouldn't even look at us. Fortunately, having married a child development expert, it was not hard to understand. We had time. We could wait.
Within an hour he started to open up. We were so happy to be there that we were content to wait, as he slowly got used to us again.
We all went out for a walk on the snow-covered back roads of Zagreb, and Sam began to warm up. He was still a bit shy with us, but starting to come around.
(click to enlarge)
I confess that it was hard to see him so changed: talking like crazy, moving so easily and with such confidence; even his hands were different- longer fingers, more boy-like. Two and a half months at two and a half years of age is a long time.
Over the course of the day, things began to get back to normal. Simple things were best. He discovered my electric toothbrush, and proceeded to brush my teeth. He made sure to clean all those hard to reach molars.
He then felt it both necessary and appropriate to make sure that the teeth of all his dinosaurs were clean.
Then we watcheda skateboard video, covering NYC's five boroughs (a gift of my nephew Mark). We were starting to bond...
Finally, at the end of the evening it was time for Sam's bath. He apparently had resisted a bath for many of the preceding nights. With me he agreed right away. To me that was his welcome-to-Zagreb-great-to-see-you moment. And we had fun.
I was where I wanted to be.
(click to enlarge)
...
MARCH 13 - 20
DAY 1 AND 2
I'd be better at posting these things if I wasn't so depressed...
What keeps me going is knowing that Sam is having a great time in Croatia, and getting experiences he could not have here in NYC (I'm trying, I'm trying!).
Our visit with Sam was both more wonderful than I had expected, and much harder than I expected. Like life, I guess.
It was with great pleasure that we hopped in the cab for the trip to the airport, and our first sight of Sam since January 1st. I love the airport, expecially if I'm the one who is flying. Perhaps if I flew more often it would become routine and maybe even annoying. But I ain't there yet. It's still really cool.
We were to take Alitalia to Milan, and from there to Zagreb. Bit of excitement/trepidation: we discovered our plane, which was delayed, would
a) not land in Milan until 30 minutes after the Zagreb flight was scheduled to leave, and
b) if we missed that 9 a.m. plane, the next one wouldn't leave Milan til 9pm.
So, hoping against hope, and not wanting to spend 12 hours in the Milan airport and miss 12 hours with Sam, we dashed from the plane when it landed in Milan, resisted the urge to run through the security guards, and arrived breathlessly at the departure desk for the Zagreb flight.
The plane hadn't left.
Because they had yet to locate the crew.
It was Alitalia. I should have figured: the Italian's loose definition of time is both well known, infuriating, and wonderful.
We boarded the small prop plane, caught our first sight of Croatia through the propellor of the plane, and landed at noon. Very glad to be there. We found out later that the 9pm plane "is usually cancelled," which would have meant being trapped in the airport for 24 hours.
Of course our luggage hadn't made it.
Nothing mattered though, if we could be with Sam. Sam was expecting us, but had become so anxious with excitement that when we did arrive he buried his head in Sonja's neck and wouldn't even look at us. Fortunately, having married a child development expert, it was not hard to understand. We had time. We could wait.
Within an hour he started to open up. We were so happy to be there that we were content to wait, as he slowly got used to us again.
We all went out for a walk on the snow-covered back roads of Zagreb, and Sam began to warm up. He was still a bit shy with us, but starting to come around.
(click to enlarge)
I confess that it was hard to see him so changed: talking like crazy, moving so easily and with such confidence; even his hands were different- longer fingers, more boy-like. Two and a half months at two and a half years of age is a long time.
Over the course of the day, things began to get back to normal. Simple things were best. He discovered my electric toothbrush, and proceeded to brush my teeth. He made sure to clean all those hard to reach molars.
He then felt it both necessary and appropriate to make sure that the teeth of all his dinosaurs were clean.
Then we watcheda skateboard video, covering NYC's five boroughs (a gift of my nephew Mark). We were starting to bond...
Finally, at the end of the evening it was time for Sam's bath. He apparently had resisted a bath for many of the preceding nights. With me he agreed right away. To me that was his welcome-to-Zagreb-great-to-see-you moment. And we had fun.
I was where I wanted to be.
(click to enlarge)
...
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
Sunday, March 06, 2005
...
ART REMINISCENSE WHILE WAITING FOR CROATIA
STORM KING ADVENTURE
OCTOBER 2004
(click to enlarge these pics)
Yep, next week at this time I will be arriving in Zagreb, and reuniting with my beloved Sam.
[note: while I love our daughter and son-in-law dearly, and do not want in any way to suggest to them that we are not thrilled and excited to be seeing them, it is also true that their growth, both physical and emotional, will be less noticeable than will Sam's, and thus Sam's loss to us for the past 10 weeks is greater, and our impending reunion all that much more exciting]
In preparation for that reunion, and to pass the hours that will seem to pass sooooo slowwwly over this next week, I have taken to reminiscing about past adventures. And gathering some photos that have not yet made it onto the blog (yes, there are a few of those...).
Last October we spent a nice Autumn day at Storm King Art Center, an hour's ride north of the city. We were there the entire day, and saw only a tiny portion of the collection. Many of the sculptures are site-specific, and most were placed there by the artists. Curated by the landscape.
The photo above, with Sam romping underneath, is Kenneth Snelson's "Free Ride Home." According to the website, "it was erected in a half-hour by a crew of four men and has never required any adjustment. The self-supporting structure depends on a system in which the wires function like muscles and the tubes like bones, in a taut balance of tension and compression." I didn't know that then. I just remember being fascinated that Sam wanted to run around directly underneath the center of the arch. I would have expected him to either a) go for the sides, and start climbing, b) run around in front of it to get a good view, or c) run away from it, as something that might collapse on him (a concern of Mary's).
The Mark di Suvero piece, Pyramidian, was a different story. Here, the danger seemed too real, and Sam would only stand under it if I was holding him.
And there were some pieces that are much safer than they look; although it looks like it's going to fall over on us (or falling away, depending on your perspective), this piece is an optical illusion in two tons of steel.
And then again, it doesn't have to be a sculpture to threaten collapse. Yet we don't generally look at trees, and tree branches, in that way. Permanence of nature?
Which is one of the things I find so wonderful in Andy Goldsworthy's work. Visiting his Storm King Wall was a primary reason for our visit. It sounds like dumb art-speak, I know, but his use of natural materials to comment on the impermanence of nature is something I find both beautiful and thoughtful. Besides the natural beauty of the wall itself, (I particularly liked the loop into the water, and its re-emergence on the other side of the lake), Goldsworthy has other things to say. Perhaps the most intriguing is the close relationship between the wall and the trees it wraps around. At first look, it is comforting to see how protected this tree is. Almost cozy. But then you slowly realize that this tree is eventually, over the course of the next fifty years or so, going to destroy the wall. Kinda changes how I see the relationship between protector and protectee. As well as just what is permanent (nothing) and what is not (everything).
And that means, this is not permanent either.
It's not so much that it is hard to accept this; I don't want to accept it.
I mean, c'mon. How can this not be forever?
But back to the Wall: for Sam, his relationship with the wall was expansive. It offered him space to run, a place to steal little 'keep back' flags, and to swing, among other pleasures.
And have his portrait taken with his grandmother, and her best friend Karen.
The Richard Serra sculpture, Schunnemunk Fork (whatever the hell that means), was one of Sam's favorites. He has long been a Serra fan. He visited his sculptures at Dia Beacon, and the Gagosian gallery in August 2003, just before turning two (Remember this photo of Sam, pizza, and walking on Serra)?
At Storm King it was a place for another exotic diaper change (soon, I promise, I will publish for general edification the entire exotic diaper change collection). And a place for hide and seek and camera peek a boo. His laughter is permanent, at least as long as I am permanent.
Ha.
As the day wound down, Sam was drawn to this Louise Nevelson piece. Actually, if you look closer (and click on the photo to enlarge it), you will see that what he is actually admiring is the piece of stone on the grass that identifies the piece. And in fact, he is admiring to such an extent that he is ripping it out of the earth..
Not content with his artistic statement commenting on the appropriate way to deal with labels, he then wandered into the sculpture and started pushing/moving all its 'do not touch' elements.
Soon after this photo was taken we watched, with fascination, as a large piece (can't remember whose it was; didn't take a photo) was slowly moved across a lawn by a small tractor.
Which was Sam's favorite object of the day.
We'll be back.
...
ART REMINISCENSE WHILE WAITING FOR CROATIA
STORM KING ADVENTURE
OCTOBER 2004
(click to enlarge these pics)
Yep, next week at this time I will be arriving in Zagreb, and reuniting with my beloved Sam.
[note: while I love our daughter and son-in-law dearly, and do not want in any way to suggest to them that we are not thrilled and excited to be seeing them, it is also true that their growth, both physical and emotional, will be less noticeable than will Sam's, and thus Sam's loss to us for the past 10 weeks is greater, and our impending reunion all that much more exciting]
In preparation for that reunion, and to pass the hours that will seem to pass sooooo slowwwly over this next week, I have taken to reminiscing about past adventures. And gathering some photos that have not yet made it onto the blog (yes, there are a few of those...).
Last October we spent a nice Autumn day at Storm King Art Center, an hour's ride north of the city. We were there the entire day, and saw only a tiny portion of the collection. Many of the sculptures are site-specific, and most were placed there by the artists. Curated by the landscape.
The photo above, with Sam romping underneath, is Kenneth Snelson's "Free Ride Home." According to the website, "it was erected in a half-hour by a crew of four men and has never required any adjustment. The self-supporting structure depends on a system in which the wires function like muscles and the tubes like bones, in a taut balance of tension and compression." I didn't know that then. I just remember being fascinated that Sam wanted to run around directly underneath the center of the arch. I would have expected him to either a) go for the sides, and start climbing, b) run around in front of it to get a good view, or c) run away from it, as something that might collapse on him (a concern of Mary's).
The Mark di Suvero piece, Pyramidian, was a different story. Here, the danger seemed too real, and Sam would only stand under it if I was holding him.
And there were some pieces that are much safer than they look; although it looks like it's going to fall over on us (or falling away, depending on your perspective), this piece is an optical illusion in two tons of steel.
And then again, it doesn't have to be a sculpture to threaten collapse. Yet we don't generally look at trees, and tree branches, in that way. Permanence of nature?
Which is one of the things I find so wonderful in Andy Goldsworthy's work. Visiting his Storm King Wall was a primary reason for our visit. It sounds like dumb art-speak, I know, but his use of natural materials to comment on the impermanence of nature is something I find both beautiful and thoughtful. Besides the natural beauty of the wall itself, (I particularly liked the loop into the water, and its re-emergence on the other side of the lake), Goldsworthy has other things to say. Perhaps the most intriguing is the close relationship between the wall and the trees it wraps around. At first look, it is comforting to see how protected this tree is. Almost cozy. But then you slowly realize that this tree is eventually, over the course of the next fifty years or so, going to destroy the wall. Kinda changes how I see the relationship between protector and protectee. As well as just what is permanent (nothing) and what is not (everything).
And that means, this is not permanent either.
It's not so much that it is hard to accept this; I don't want to accept it.
I mean, c'mon. How can this not be forever?
But back to the Wall: for Sam, his relationship with the wall was expansive. It offered him space to run, a place to steal little 'keep back' flags, and to swing, among other pleasures.
And have his portrait taken with his grandmother, and her best friend Karen.
The Richard Serra sculpture, Schunnemunk Fork (whatever the hell that means), was one of Sam's favorites. He has long been a Serra fan. He visited his sculptures at Dia Beacon, and the Gagosian gallery in August 2003, just before turning two (Remember this photo of Sam, pizza, and walking on Serra)?
At Storm King it was a place for another exotic diaper change (soon, I promise, I will publish for general edification the entire exotic diaper change collection). And a place for hide and seek and camera peek a boo. His laughter is permanent, at least as long as I am permanent.
Ha.
As the day wound down, Sam was drawn to this Louise Nevelson piece. Actually, if you look closer (and click on the photo to enlarge it), you will see that what he is actually admiring is the piece of stone on the grass that identifies the piece. And in fact, he is admiring to such an extent that he is ripping it out of the earth..
Not content with his artistic statement commenting on the appropriate way to deal with labels, he then wandered into the sculpture and started pushing/moving all its 'do not touch' elements.
Soon after this photo was taken we watched, with fascination, as a large piece (can't remember whose it was; didn't take a photo) was slowly moved across a lawn by a small tractor.
Which was Sam's favorite object of the day.
We'll be back.
...
Sunday, February 20, 2005
...
THE GATES
(sans Sam)
Ah yes, The Gates. On Saturday morning, February 12th, Mary and I headed down to Central Park for the unfurling of Christo & Jean-Claude's gift to New York. For the previous week hundreds of workers installed the gates, with the fabric tightly contained in a fabric pouch at the top of each gate. The unfurling was supposed to begin between 8 and 9 in the morning. Lots of folks were out, waiting.
I sat on the Bethesda fountain, waiting for the unfurling to begin, and wished that Sam, Sonja, and Paul could be with us to experience this. There have only been a handful of days in my life that began with the recognition that it would be a day never to be forgotten. This was one of those days. To be a part of something both as solid and ephemeral as the Gates was exciting. I knew that our faraway kids and beloved grandchild would have loved it. So I sat on the edge of that fountain, clutching a backpack trying to pretend it was Sam, and remembering, with great emotion, when he and I last sat here.
Our good friend (and soon to be John's Best Man), Ben, joined us and the unfurling began. A worker reached with a pole and hooked a hanging loop, then pulled, essentially unzipping it, and the fabric spilled out. We watched it over and over, and made sure we had our photo taken just as the fabric started coming out: it took awhile, and a lot of wasted photos, but we got afew.
The fabric was stored in its fabric pouch wrapped around a cardboard tube, so that when it unfurled the cardboard tube caused it to drop straight down. The tube then fell away and was carted away by a worker. Mary asked someone if she could take one for her kids to play with. Unfortunately, everything was being recycled. One of the workers was an art teacher and she smiled at Mary and said "It just screams art project, doesn't it." I thought it a bit churlish to simpy destroy them. But then I read an article about someone trying to sell one of them on E-bay and supposedly getting a $1,200 bid (it must be a joke) for a tube, and I realized that it could become a free-for-all. First the tubes, then the gates themselves I guess. Christo and Jean-Claude are tres nice, however, and have given the workers 1,000,000 swatches of the fabric to distribute. This wasn't advertised, but word of mouth spread quickly. By this weekend, one week following the unfurling, all the swatches were gone. We of course made sure to get one to send to Sam.
Here's Ben and I reaching for a gate.
New York being New York, and thus filled with all kinds of wonder, we slipped away from Central Park as the unfurling process slowly made its way along the 23 miles of walkways and went over to the Whitney to see the Tim Hawkinson retrospective. How can I describe what he does? That Sam would love it? He certainly would. As would Paul. I mean, here's a guy who makes tiny bird sculptures out of fingernail clippings, shorts out of extension cords, and gears that revolve once every hundred years. He's a nut. He covered himself in latex, then peeled it off, pumped the thing with air and had a "balloon self portrait." I had Ben sneak a photo (we got yelled at by a guard when we first tried it) of me in the middle of a piece called "Pentecost". The catalogue describes it as "Twelve figures based on the Bathtub-Generated Contour Lace pattern [don't ask] ...suspended within the branches of a tree composed of cardboard tubes covered with wooden-deck rubbings. Each figure taps with a different part of his body on a branch of the tree. Syncopated, rhythmic patterns are generated by a found computer program."
Made a lot of fun noises, and was goofy as hell. The title was very appropriate.
But the killer was his Uberorgan, which must be the world's largest musical instrument. It was obviously too big for the Whitney, so it was installed in an atrium of the IBM building, off 5th Avenue. We sauntered down there and were met by this huge thing that looked, according to my friend Tim, like intestines snaking through the trees.
It was certainly big. Can you find Mary?
The thing was controlled by a gigantic player piano roll. The music it played reminded me of birds chirping while dinosaurs farted, and you could hear them both at the same time. Interesting.
But it was time to head back to the Park, and wander the paths, the steps, and the tunnels. With the Gates unfurled, everything was new and remarkably joyful for a grey winter's day.
ONE WEEK LATER
Yesterday was gorgeous. Spectacular. The Gates in the bright afternoon sun, with the wind catching them. Oh my. We walked along the paths surrounding the Harlem Meer, and took our photos. We were joined by Mary's best friend, Karen Soles (Ben's mom), who came down from our old homestead of Penn Yan to visit the Gates. In this photo, Mary is taking Karen's photo.
It was sort of a photo-heavy kind of day.
We met two very nice young Gates' workers who informed us that a) we had just missed Christo by about 5 minutes (Karen and I are blaming it on Mary, who was in the gift shop buying a Gates shirt for Sonja) and b) that this was Christo's favorite spot, and he and Jean-Claude came by two or three times a day. We were sorry we couldn't get a photo of both of them giving Mary and Karen big hugs, but we got one that's even better: the young workers agreed to pose with them. Their primary responsibility was to walk the paths carring big poles with hooks (safety-tipped with tennis balls) to unsnag Gates that might have wrapped around themselves when the wind gets high.
We found plenty of good opportunities for self-portraits framed by blowing fabric in the distance. Mary had the artist-eyes to see this photo (that's me, by the way, leaning against a pole, across the water).
I like it even better with the Gates removed: just the reflection. Eat your heart out Mr. Monet!
Christo has his favorite spot, and I have mine: here.
I love the contrasts, love the way the sun lights up the fabric so that it glows from the inside. At each moment, the Gates look different. The sun, the wind, the people interacting with them... Kind of takes my breath away, I do confess.
I also like the way they get thinner where the paths are narrow and wider where the paths open up.
Karen and Mary were very happy to be able to share this with each other.
The Gates are here for only one more week. Today I rode my bike down to see them, but six miles from home, and three miles before reaching the Park, I got a flat tire. It was a bit of a long walk home. Tonight it's supposed to start snowing, and 4 to 6 inches of accumulation are expected. Gates junkies like myself are thrilled, and can't wait to see them in the snow.
I'm going to miss them.
.
THE GATES
(sans Sam)
Ah yes, The Gates. On Saturday morning, February 12th, Mary and I headed down to Central Park for the unfurling of Christo & Jean-Claude's gift to New York. For the previous week hundreds of workers installed the gates, with the fabric tightly contained in a fabric pouch at the top of each gate. The unfurling was supposed to begin between 8 and 9 in the morning. Lots of folks were out, waiting.
I sat on the Bethesda fountain, waiting for the unfurling to begin, and wished that Sam, Sonja, and Paul could be with us to experience this. There have only been a handful of days in my life that began with the recognition that it would be a day never to be forgotten. This was one of those days. To be a part of something both as solid and ephemeral as the Gates was exciting. I knew that our faraway kids and beloved grandchild would have loved it. So I sat on the edge of that fountain, clutching a backpack trying to pretend it was Sam, and remembering, with great emotion, when he and I last sat here.
Our good friend (and soon to be John's Best Man), Ben, joined us and the unfurling began. A worker reached with a pole and hooked a hanging loop, then pulled, essentially unzipping it, and the fabric spilled out. We watched it over and over, and made sure we had our photo taken just as the fabric started coming out: it took awhile, and a lot of wasted photos, but we got afew.
The fabric was stored in its fabric pouch wrapped around a cardboard tube, so that when it unfurled the cardboard tube caused it to drop straight down. The tube then fell away and was carted away by a worker. Mary asked someone if she could take one for her kids to play with. Unfortunately, everything was being recycled. One of the workers was an art teacher and she smiled at Mary and said "It just screams art project, doesn't it." I thought it a bit churlish to simpy destroy them. But then I read an article about someone trying to sell one of them on E-bay and supposedly getting a $1,200 bid (it must be a joke) for a tube, and I realized that it could become a free-for-all. First the tubes, then the gates themselves I guess. Christo and Jean-Claude are tres nice, however, and have given the workers 1,000,000 swatches of the fabric to distribute. This wasn't advertised, but word of mouth spread quickly. By this weekend, one week following the unfurling, all the swatches were gone. We of course made sure to get one to send to Sam.
Here's Ben and I reaching for a gate.
New York being New York, and thus filled with all kinds of wonder, we slipped away from Central Park as the unfurling process slowly made its way along the 23 miles of walkways and went over to the Whitney to see the Tim Hawkinson retrospective. How can I describe what he does? That Sam would love it? He certainly would. As would Paul. I mean, here's a guy who makes tiny bird sculptures out of fingernail clippings, shorts out of extension cords, and gears that revolve once every hundred years. He's a nut. He covered himself in latex, then peeled it off, pumped the thing with air and had a "balloon self portrait." I had Ben sneak a photo (we got yelled at by a guard when we first tried it) of me in the middle of a piece called "Pentecost". The catalogue describes it as "Twelve figures based on the Bathtub-Generated Contour Lace pattern [don't ask] ...suspended within the branches of a tree composed of cardboard tubes covered with wooden-deck rubbings. Each figure taps with a different part of his body on a branch of the tree. Syncopated, rhythmic patterns are generated by a found computer program."
Made a lot of fun noises, and was goofy as hell. The title was very appropriate.
But the killer was his Uberorgan, which must be the world's largest musical instrument. It was obviously too big for the Whitney, so it was installed in an atrium of the IBM building, off 5th Avenue. We sauntered down there and were met by this huge thing that looked, according to my friend Tim, like intestines snaking through the trees.
It was certainly big. Can you find Mary?
The thing was controlled by a gigantic player piano roll. The music it played reminded me of birds chirping while dinosaurs farted, and you could hear them both at the same time. Interesting.
But it was time to head back to the Park, and wander the paths, the steps, and the tunnels. With the Gates unfurled, everything was new and remarkably joyful for a grey winter's day.
ONE WEEK LATER
Yesterday was gorgeous. Spectacular. The Gates in the bright afternoon sun, with the wind catching them. Oh my. We walked along the paths surrounding the Harlem Meer, and took our photos. We were joined by Mary's best friend, Karen Soles (Ben's mom), who came down from our old homestead of Penn Yan to visit the Gates. In this photo, Mary is taking Karen's photo.
It was sort of a photo-heavy kind of day.
We met two very nice young Gates' workers who informed us that a) we had just missed Christo by about 5 minutes (Karen and I are blaming it on Mary, who was in the gift shop buying a Gates shirt for Sonja) and b) that this was Christo's favorite spot, and he and Jean-Claude came by two or three times a day. We were sorry we couldn't get a photo of both of them giving Mary and Karen big hugs, but we got one that's even better: the young workers agreed to pose with them. Their primary responsibility was to walk the paths carring big poles with hooks (safety-tipped with tennis balls) to unsnag Gates that might have wrapped around themselves when the wind gets high.
We found plenty of good opportunities for self-portraits framed by blowing fabric in the distance. Mary had the artist-eyes to see this photo (that's me, by the way, leaning against a pole, across the water).
I like it even better with the Gates removed: just the reflection. Eat your heart out Mr. Monet!
Christo has his favorite spot, and I have mine: here.
I love the contrasts, love the way the sun lights up the fabric so that it glows from the inside. At each moment, the Gates look different. The sun, the wind, the people interacting with them... Kind of takes my breath away, I do confess.
I also like the way they get thinner where the paths are narrow and wider where the paths open up.
Karen and Mary were very happy to be able to share this with each other.
The Gates are here for only one more week. Today I rode my bike down to see them, but six miles from home, and three miles before reaching the Park, I got a flat tire. It was a bit of a long walk home. Tonight it's supposed to start snowing, and 4 to 6 inches of accumulation are expected. Gates junkies like myself are thrilled, and can't wait to see them in the snow.
I'm going to miss them.
.
Sunday, February 06, 2005
...
(click to enlarge)
I have made and sent another picture book to Sam, which I have sort've replicated below (at least the words and pictures if not the format), and it includes photos taken at the New York Botanical Garden's wonderful model train show. The photo above was taken there, and has us standing next to the Guggenheim museum, constructed from mushrooms. Brilliant.
Sam is doing quite well in Zagreb (unlike his grandparents in NYC), and will soon start attending a local pre-school three mornings a week. They visited the school last week. Initially, prior to setting out on the adventure, Sam shrank a bit and said "I'm shy." Once he arrived, and discovered there were other children there and, more important, a goldfish, he was hooked and didn't want to leave. Sam will be the only English speaking student (although English has become such the universal language that much of the instruction for these children -who come from a variety of countries- will be in English).
But oh do I wish that Sam could be with us at 8:00 a.m. next Saturday morning when Christo's Gates are unfurled in Central Park. It's going to be spectacular, and knowing Sam's love of color, and of waving flags, he would have been ecstatic. I will be thinking of him next Saturday. Here's a description from Christo's website:
The 7500 Gates, 16 feet (4.87 meters) high with a width varying from 5' 6" to 18 feet (1,67 m to 5,48 meters) will follow the edges of the walkways and will be perpendicular to the selected 23 miles of footpaths in Central Park. Free hanging saffron colored fabric panels suspended from the horizontal top part of the gates will come down to approximately 7 feet ( 2,13 meters) above the ground. The gates will be spaced at 12 foot (3,65 meter) intervals, except where low branches extend above the walkways allowing the synthetic woven panels to wave horizontally towards the next gate and be seen from far away through the leafless branches of the trees. The temporary work of art The Gates is scheduled for February 2005, to remain for 16 days, then the 7,500 Gates shall be removed and the materials will be recycled.
Oh well. When he returns there will remain plenty of delights for Sam to see. Meanwhile, I work every Friday trying to earn money to fly to Croatia and visit. It sure as hell isn't the same as spending the day having adventures with Sam.
SAM LIKES TRAINS
Sam likes to look at trains in stores
Sam likes watching trains go by
Sam likes seeing trains very close
Sam likes to play with trains
…even when he’s eating
Sam likes to help Cranky the Crane
Piggy likes to sleep on the shed
(she’s too big to fit inside)
Sam likes to go with Grandma to look at trains
(can you find Sam in this picture?)
Sam likes to see trains go over bridges made of sticks
Sam likes to see them with Grandpa
and Grandma
Sam likes to show Grandpa where the train is coming from
Sam says, “See Grandpa? There it is”
Sam likes to meet real trains, like Thomas
Thomas is BIGGGGG...!!
Sam likes it when Grandma helps him look in Thomas and see where the driver sits
Sam loves Thomas
But Sam loves his Grandpa,
and his Grandma, even more
(click to enlarge)
I have made and sent another picture book to Sam, which I have sort've replicated below (at least the words and pictures if not the format), and it includes photos taken at the New York Botanical Garden's wonderful model train show. The photo above was taken there, and has us standing next to the Guggenheim museum, constructed from mushrooms. Brilliant.
Sam is doing quite well in Zagreb (unlike his grandparents in NYC), and will soon start attending a local pre-school three mornings a week. They visited the school last week. Initially, prior to setting out on the adventure, Sam shrank a bit and said "I'm shy." Once he arrived, and discovered there were other children there and, more important, a goldfish, he was hooked and didn't want to leave. Sam will be the only English speaking student (although English has become such the universal language that much of the instruction for these children -who come from a variety of countries- will be in English).
But oh do I wish that Sam could be with us at 8:00 a.m. next Saturday morning when Christo's Gates are unfurled in Central Park. It's going to be spectacular, and knowing Sam's love of color, and of waving flags, he would have been ecstatic. I will be thinking of him next Saturday. Here's a description from Christo's website:
The 7500 Gates, 16 feet (4.87 meters) high with a width varying from 5' 6" to 18 feet (1,67 m to 5,48 meters) will follow the edges of the walkways and will be perpendicular to the selected 23 miles of footpaths in Central Park. Free hanging saffron colored fabric panels suspended from the horizontal top part of the gates will come down to approximately 7 feet ( 2,13 meters) above the ground. The gates will be spaced at 12 foot (3,65 meter) intervals, except where low branches extend above the walkways allowing the synthetic woven panels to wave horizontally towards the next gate and be seen from far away through the leafless branches of the trees. The temporary work of art The Gates is scheduled for February 2005, to remain for 16 days, then the 7,500 Gates shall be removed and the materials will be recycled.
Oh well. When he returns there will remain plenty of delights for Sam to see. Meanwhile, I work every Friday trying to earn money to fly to Croatia and visit. It sure as hell isn't the same as spending the day having adventures with Sam.
SAM LIKES TRAINS
Sam likes to look at trains in stores
Sam likes watching trains go by
Sam likes seeing trains very close
Sam likes to play with trains
…even when he’s eating
Sam likes to help Cranky the Crane
Piggy likes to sleep on the shed
(she’s too big to fit inside)
Sam likes to go with Grandma to look at trains
(can you find Sam in this picture?)
Sam likes to see trains go over bridges made of sticks
Sam likes to see them with Grandpa
and Grandma
Sam likes to show Grandpa where the train is coming from
Sam says, “See Grandpa? There it is”
Sam likes to meet real trains, like Thomas
Thomas is BIGGGGG...!!
Sam likes it when Grandma helps him look in Thomas and see where the driver sits
Sam loves Thomas
But Sam loves his Grandpa,
and his Grandma, even more
Saturday, January 29, 2005
...
(click to enlarge)
4,294 miles
I miss his laugh. That, probably more than anything, seems to define Sam for me right now. When he gets started he doesn’t stop. There is nothing ‘knowing’ about it, nothing ironic or post-modern, not even any innocence. It simply is. Blessedly free of self-knowledge. I admit I could be fooling myself, could be investing in his laugh more than it warrants, and indulging in weepy nostalgia. But, you know what? I don’t give a damn anymore. To accusations of wallowing I say, so? Your point?
Yes, I am happy that he’s happy over there far away over the seas 4,294 miles from home…. I still think Sonja and Paul made the right choice. And I’m still wallowing.
This morning it was this picture that tore at my heart. A simple one, taken on the morning of a trip with me to the Natural History museum (celebrated in the first picture book we made for him in Croatia): he’s in his pajamas, curled around his juice bottle, legs up, toes spread, looking curious/mesmerized at whatever Grandma is doing/reading. His whole body demonstrates the openness of that curiousity. It’s a photograph that demonstrates, for me, the freshness of the boy’s brain. Unless we’re Buddhist monks who have meditated for decades, we adults are unable to look at anything fresh. There are too many associations that have been built up over the years in our brains. It’s probably one of the reasons that those of us who would like to look at things fresh, new, and really see them as such, are so attracted to kids like Sam. I’m both envious, and awed.
(click to enlarge)
Enough of this. In Croatia, Sam is helping to get his new apartment ready, as you can see in the photo above (“oh my god, is it lead paint he’s sanding??” worries his grandmother). The apartment is in the oldest part of Zagreb, and I can testify to its beauty, and to its celebration of history: here’s a case where layers of associations built up over hundreds of years, bring a warmth and depth that are the polar opposite of the ‘freshness’ I mentioned above, but equally awe-inspiring. I’m going to ask Paul for more pictures of his neighborhood, but until then, this one taken outside their apartment building gives a good sense of that depth.
Paul writes:
We have started to get the new place into shape! Sam and I go there in the mornings and Sonja meets us for lunch. It's a little cold in there right now as the heat is off until we move in. As you can see from the pics young Samwise is very helpful...
Things are moving on as we try to get accustomed to the new life. I never really experienced the twos quite like this. I suppose it's just about time spent with Sam, more time = more twos...
Sonja is very busy and I'm struggling a bit with the change of pace…
Sam went to bed at a reasonable time last night for the first time! We'll see if it can stick.
The womens world championships of downhill skiing start tomorrow in the
mountains above Zagreb and on a big screen in Jelacic square...
More to come...
Grandma and Grandpa wish we were there.
(click to enlarge)
4,294 miles
I miss his laugh. That, probably more than anything, seems to define Sam for me right now. When he gets started he doesn’t stop. There is nothing ‘knowing’ about it, nothing ironic or post-modern, not even any innocence. It simply is. Blessedly free of self-knowledge. I admit I could be fooling myself, could be investing in his laugh more than it warrants, and indulging in weepy nostalgia. But, you know what? I don’t give a damn anymore. To accusations of wallowing I say, so? Your point?
Yes, I am happy that he’s happy over there far away over the seas 4,294 miles from home…. I still think Sonja and Paul made the right choice. And I’m still wallowing.
This morning it was this picture that tore at my heart. A simple one, taken on the morning of a trip with me to the Natural History museum (celebrated in the first picture book we made for him in Croatia): he’s in his pajamas, curled around his juice bottle, legs up, toes spread, looking curious/mesmerized at whatever Grandma is doing/reading. His whole body demonstrates the openness of that curiousity. It’s a photograph that demonstrates, for me, the freshness of the boy’s brain. Unless we’re Buddhist monks who have meditated for decades, we adults are unable to look at anything fresh. There are too many associations that have been built up over the years in our brains. It’s probably one of the reasons that those of us who would like to look at things fresh, new, and really see them as such, are so attracted to kids like Sam. I’m both envious, and awed.
(click to enlarge)
Enough of this. In Croatia, Sam is helping to get his new apartment ready, as you can see in the photo above (“oh my god, is it lead paint he’s sanding??” worries his grandmother). The apartment is in the oldest part of Zagreb, and I can testify to its beauty, and to its celebration of history: here’s a case where layers of associations built up over hundreds of years, bring a warmth and depth that are the polar opposite of the ‘freshness’ I mentioned above, but equally awe-inspiring. I’m going to ask Paul for more pictures of his neighborhood, but until then, this one taken outside their apartment building gives a good sense of that depth.
Paul writes:
We have started to get the new place into shape! Sam and I go there in the mornings and Sonja meets us for lunch. It's a little cold in there right now as the heat is off until we move in. As you can see from the pics young Samwise is very helpful...
Things are moving on as we try to get accustomed to the new life. I never really experienced the twos quite like this. I suppose it's just about time spent with Sam, more time = more twos...
Sonja is very busy and I'm struggling a bit with the change of pace…
Sam went to bed at a reasonable time last night for the first time! We'll see if it can stick.
The womens world championships of downhill skiing start tomorrow in the
mountains above Zagreb and on a big screen in Jelacic square...
More to come...
Grandma and Grandpa wish we were there.
Sunday, January 16, 2005
...
THE MOVE
Everything had to be in the shipping container by 10 a.m. The container arrived on the back of the flatbed at 8:00 and with the help of our neighbor Josh, and our new neighbor Michael, who will be subletting Paul and Sonja's apartment, we just made it. Sam did well. He followed his bed, drink cup in hand, down the elevator, into the lobby, and into the container.
One of the first to go down was the dragon, wrapped in its protective saran wrap. We carried it out the front of 100 Arden, and perched it in pride of place.
Here is a photo of the desk going out the door. Inside, unbeknownst to Paul and Sonja, were their passports. Which led to much madness over the following six days... Attempts to reach the container before it headed out to sea (failed), trying to get new passports on New Years Eve (failed), exchange their plane tickets (failed), and, well you get the idea.
All in all an exciting move. In some ways it was good for Mary and I: we were so anxious for them to get on the plane safe and sound and with passports in hand that we forgot until they were flying over the Atlantic how bereft we were. It also gave us an extra few days with them.
(love that ipod...click to enlarge)
I've mentioned the Eve Sussman video,'89 Seconds at Alcazar', and it's re-enactment of the Velasquez painting Las Meninas. As you may remember, Sam went up to the screen to pet the dog in the lower lefthand corner. I forgot that I took a picture of that moment, first with flash (you can't see the video image, but you can see Sam's size in relation to the screen). I then took a photo without flash, and you should be able to make out the image on the screen, and just barely Sam's head near the dog. We went back to see it again yesterday, and brought John with us. I learned the following: Las Meninas was radical for more reasons than I knew. It was the first snapshot; the first painting to capture a split second in time, predating photography by a helluva long time. And he makes the observer (you) invisible, by placing you directly between the painter and the couple whose portrait he's painting (you can see the couple "behind" you in a mirror across the room). John had a cinema studies professor lecture on the comparison with film technique, and the concept of the 'sutured' viewer. I find the thought of me being sutured into the visual space rather intriguing. And after 15 viewings of the video piece, I didn't get any of that. Very cool.
When we took Sam to the new MOMA, he liked the size of some of the rooms, and the opportunity to run (not that common an experience in museums). There were dangers of course. Here he is just seconds away from going behind this large metal wall sculpture (I've forgotten the artist's name) and whacking his head against one of the sharp edges. He survived. So did the sculpture. And fortunately the guard was looking the other way.
Sam is quite proud to be able to recognize a Gauguin, and Van Gogh. He spent a long time looking at Starry Night (one of my least favorite pictures; probably just my curmudgeonly distaste of tourist landmarks), and was happy to sleep in peace amidst some lovely Matisse.
And finally, a new picture book being sent to Sam in Croatia:
SAM AT GRANDPA AND GRANDMA'S HOUSE
Whenever I go to Grandma and Grandpa’s house, they are always happy to see me. Grandpa says “"Hi Sam!"
There is a big room in Grandpa and Grandma’s house where I like to play. Once I had my train tracks ALL OVER. (can you see all my other toys?)
I like to sit on Grandpa’s exercise machine.
Sometimes he helps me ride it !!!
One day Mark let Grandpa and me ride on his skateboard. Wheeeee...
I also like to sit on my little red chair and blow bubbles with Grandma
(and sometimes the bubble juice spills on my pants)
Sometimes I read with Grandpa on the steps near my little table (and near my puppet theater, with my Yellow Submarine Beatle figures)
And Grandpa and I snuggle on the couch and he lets me play his guitar.
I like to make music with Grandma
Uncle John is a very good musician and we have lots of fun when he comes to visit at Grandma and Grandpa’s house.
Grandpa and I like to play on the computer together. What are we looking at????
HOMESTAR RUNNER!!!!!!
Grandma and I read books whenever we can.
And wherever we can. Even at the table where we eat our dinner.
I love it when everyone eats dinner together.
After dinner, I help put away the laundry in the bedroom. Grandma says I am a big help.
And she says that I make it so much fun for her.
Sometimes I take a bath in Grandpa and Grandma’s big bathtub.
And sometimes I take a nap in Grandpa and Grandma’s big bed.
I like Grandpa and Grandma’s house in New York, and I will have fun when I go there again.
THE MOVE
Everything had to be in the shipping container by 10 a.m. The container arrived on the back of the flatbed at 8:00 and with the help of our neighbor Josh, and our new neighbor Michael, who will be subletting Paul and Sonja's apartment, we just made it. Sam did well. He followed his bed, drink cup in hand, down the elevator, into the lobby, and into the container.
One of the first to go down was the dragon, wrapped in its protective saran wrap. We carried it out the front of 100 Arden, and perched it in pride of place.
Here is a photo of the desk going out the door. Inside, unbeknownst to Paul and Sonja, were their passports. Which led to much madness over the following six days... Attempts to reach the container before it headed out to sea (failed), trying to get new passports on New Years Eve (failed), exchange their plane tickets (failed), and, well you get the idea.
All in all an exciting move. In some ways it was good for Mary and I: we were so anxious for them to get on the plane safe and sound and with passports in hand that we forgot until they were flying over the Atlantic how bereft we were. It also gave us an extra few days with them.
(love that ipod...click to enlarge)
I've mentioned the Eve Sussman video,'89 Seconds at Alcazar', and it's re-enactment of the Velasquez painting Las Meninas. As you may remember, Sam went up to the screen to pet the dog in the lower lefthand corner. I forgot that I took a picture of that moment, first with flash (you can't see the video image, but you can see Sam's size in relation to the screen). I then took a photo without flash, and you should be able to make out the image on the screen, and just barely Sam's head near the dog. We went back to see it again yesterday, and brought John with us. I learned the following: Las Meninas was radical for more reasons than I knew. It was the first snapshot; the first painting to capture a split second in time, predating photography by a helluva long time. And he makes the observer (you) invisible, by placing you directly between the painter and the couple whose portrait he's painting (you can see the couple "behind" you in a mirror across the room). John had a cinema studies professor lecture on the comparison with film technique, and the concept of the 'sutured' viewer. I find the thought of me being sutured into the visual space rather intriguing. And after 15 viewings of the video piece, I didn't get any of that. Very cool.
When we took Sam to the new MOMA, he liked the size of some of the rooms, and the opportunity to run (not that common an experience in museums). There were dangers of course. Here he is just seconds away from going behind this large metal wall sculpture (I've forgotten the artist's name) and whacking his head against one of the sharp edges. He survived. So did the sculpture. And fortunately the guard was looking the other way.
Sam is quite proud to be able to recognize a Gauguin, and Van Gogh. He spent a long time looking at Starry Night (one of my least favorite pictures; probably just my curmudgeonly distaste of tourist landmarks), and was happy to sleep in peace amidst some lovely Matisse.
And finally, a new picture book being sent to Sam in Croatia:
SAM AT GRANDPA AND GRANDMA'S HOUSE
Whenever I go to Grandma and Grandpa’s house, they are always happy to see me. Grandpa says “"Hi Sam!"
There is a big room in Grandpa and Grandma’s house where I like to play. Once I had my train tracks ALL OVER. (can you see all my other toys?)
I like to sit on Grandpa’s exercise machine.
Sometimes he helps me ride it !!!
One day Mark let Grandpa and me ride on his skateboard. Wheeeee...
I also like to sit on my little red chair and blow bubbles with Grandma
(and sometimes the bubble juice spills on my pants)
Sometimes I read with Grandpa on the steps near my little table (and near my puppet theater, with my Yellow Submarine Beatle figures)
And Grandpa and I snuggle on the couch and he lets me play his guitar.
I like to make music with Grandma
Uncle John is a very good musician and we have lots of fun when he comes to visit at Grandma and Grandpa’s house.
Grandpa and I like to play on the computer together. What are we looking at????
HOMESTAR RUNNER!!!!!!
Grandma and I read books whenever we can.
And wherever we can. Even at the table where we eat our dinner.
I love it when everyone eats dinner together.
After dinner, I help put away the laundry in the bedroom. Grandma says I am a big help.
And she says that I make it so much fun for her.
Sometimes I take a bath in Grandpa and Grandma’s big bathtub.
And sometimes I take a nap in Grandpa and Grandma’s big bed.
I like Grandpa and Grandma’s house in New York, and I will have fun when I go there again.
Friday, January 14, 2005
...
(click to enlarge)
THE DISTANCE IS GREAT AND THE WAVES ARE (MOSTLY) QUIET
We've had some brief moments of contact, with borrowed brief internet access and a cell phone. I was fortunate to be able to speak with Sam on the phone today. He told me "Daddy lost his teeth." Sam sounded good, sounded like he was settling in, sounded very far away. I hear there's a nice playground, with a special water spout that Sam discovered and claimed as his own (The itsy bitsy spider type of water spout/drain pipe).
Sonja is happy so far with her job at NAVA. If you haven't done so, check out the photos of Sam in various yoga poses on their site here, click on 'english' then scroll down and click on "Photo Galleries". Sam is on the upper right...
ENGLAND HAD SOME UNEXPECTED PLEASURES
(click to enlarge)
Sam had the privilege of spending time with some Uncles and Aunts: Ryan, Louie, and Jodie. Paul managed to e-mail the photo of the visit, which I do believe was their introduction to Sam, and verse vice-a. But unfortunately the photo does not include what was, apparently, a great thrill for Sam: their gerbils.
Ah, memories of the Mouse House.
During Paul's magical mystery tour of countries and embassies that might help him regain his lost identity, and provide a genuine passport, the family made a stop in Liverpool. And like good tourists, they made a pilgrimage to The Cavern. Considering that Imagine is Mom's favorite song of all time, and that Grandpa has always been mad for the pre-Imagine John Lennon, and that his favorite Christmas presents were the Yellow Submarine Beatles given to him by his Uncle John and Aunt Desiree, Sam had no choice but to revel in that shrine to great music.
Wish I could have taken him to see the Beatles in their Cavern days, but since I didn't land in England until '65, at age 15, and Sam would have been even younger than that, and thus perhaps unable to appreciate what he was hearing, history is all he's gonna get. At least Sam still has the music. [historical note regarding the photo at the top of this post: damn, couldn't they have made a statue of John Lennon that actually looked like him? Truly bizarre. He's wearing his 1963 clothes, has his 1966 haircut, and looks as much like him as I do.]
By the way, if during his continental rambles he runs into any of you with cameras and internet access: send them to me at kvanatta2000@yahoo.com.
(click to enlarge)
THE DISTANCE IS GREAT AND THE WAVES ARE (MOSTLY) QUIET
We've had some brief moments of contact, with borrowed brief internet access and a cell phone. I was fortunate to be able to speak with Sam on the phone today. He told me "Daddy lost his teeth." Sam sounded good, sounded like he was settling in, sounded very far away. I hear there's a nice playground, with a special water spout that Sam discovered and claimed as his own (The itsy bitsy spider type of water spout/drain pipe).
Sonja is happy so far with her job at NAVA. If you haven't done so, check out the photos of Sam in various yoga poses on their site here, click on 'english' then scroll down and click on "Photo Galleries". Sam is on the upper right...
ENGLAND HAD SOME UNEXPECTED PLEASURES
(click to enlarge)
Sam had the privilege of spending time with some Uncles and Aunts: Ryan, Louie, and Jodie. Paul managed to e-mail the photo of the visit, which I do believe was their introduction to Sam, and verse vice-a. But unfortunately the photo does not include what was, apparently, a great thrill for Sam: their gerbils.
Ah, memories of the Mouse House.
During Paul's magical mystery tour of countries and embassies that might help him regain his lost identity, and provide a genuine passport, the family made a stop in Liverpool. And like good tourists, they made a pilgrimage to The Cavern. Considering that Imagine is Mom's favorite song of all time, and that Grandpa has always been mad for the pre-Imagine John Lennon, and that his favorite Christmas presents were the Yellow Submarine Beatles given to him by his Uncle John and Aunt Desiree, Sam had no choice but to revel in that shrine to great music.
Wish I could have taken him to see the Beatles in their Cavern days, but since I didn't land in England until '65, at age 15, and Sam would have been even younger than that, and thus perhaps unable to appreciate what he was hearing, history is all he's gonna get. At least Sam still has the music. [historical note regarding the photo at the top of this post: damn, couldn't they have made a statue of John Lennon that actually looked like him? Truly bizarre. He's wearing his 1963 clothes, has his 1966 haircut, and looks as much like him as I do.]
By the way, if during his continental rambles he runs into any of you with cameras and internet access: send them to me at kvanatta2000@yahoo.com.
Sunday, January 09, 2005
...
GONE BUT NOT....
(my current desktop photo; click to enlarge)
I’ll admit. Friday was hard, very hard. Memories of glorious days, overwhelmed by selfish mourning. Ah well. All are safe in Zagreb, the temperature there is in the 50’s and sunny, the giant Christmas tree is still standing tall in the main square, the carousel still exists for Sam to ride (according to Mom, it was one of his first stops), and the city is as beautiful as he remembers it.
The Brits gave them a warm welcome, and wined and dined Sam as though he was royalty (look forward to seeing some pics). And with only a few further disasters (Paul breaks tooth, Paul misses train, luggage madness…) they completed their journey.
Now that they have safely arrived, we can start to see the humor in the whole losing-passports episode. My favorite was our mad attempt to track down the container carrying the desk carrying the passports. Paul called up the shipping company and asked if we could ride down to the port, open up the container, and get the missing passports. The shipping company guy, probably smiling a bit at our naiveté, said to give it a try. So what the hell. We figure there’d be a couple of old guards sitting at the entrance smoking cigarettes and we’d slip them 50 bucks and get our stuff. And anyway, it was practically on the way to the airport. So we’d stop by the Port of New York, pick up the passports, and get to the airport in time for the 11:00 flight.
Well, uh, the Port was big as a city. The ships and the containers about to be loaded onto them were about a mile away from the guardhouses. The guards were polite, but implacable. And not smoking. There was no way in hell they were gonna let folks climb around on the house-sized containers (of which there were probably a thousand) looking for a particular one. No way. We tearfully begged, pleaded, showed all our official papers, looked as non-terrorist as we could.
Looking back, you gotta laugh.
And looking back is just about all I got right now. I’m gonna be doing extra work on Fridays to try and raise Croatia-trip money. We’re hoping to go over in March.
And then of course there’s the big wedding that we have to buckle down and start planning for!
Yesterday Mary and I visited the new MOMA. Sam was fortunate to see it before he left for Croatia. When he fell asleep during that expedition I followed my regular procedures and paid a visit to the video exhibitions: dark rooms for Sam’s sleeping comfort and great art for me to spend time with. MOMA bought the Eve Sussman video, '89 Seconds at Alcazar', that Sam and I liked at the Whitney Biennial last year, and I watched the 12 minute looped-video about 6 times (with pleasure) before Sam woke. I swear he remembered it from last April:
From the April 16th post: …[the video piece] takes on nothing less than Velazquez's Las Meninas. With actors in full costume on a set that reproduces the room in the painting, Sussman imagines the activity…that might have preceded and followed the split-second arrangement of Velazquez's virtual photograph. Well, Sam goes in, walks right up to the screen and, looking at the princess (whose back is to the camera) says, very loudly: "Mama", then a pause, and "BIGGGGGGG." And when the dog came on the screen he announced "Dog" to all the assembled viewers.
At this most recent visit, Sam wakes, climbs out of the carriage, walks right over to the dog and starts petting the screen. And again turns to the assembled viewers and reminds them quite loudly that it is, in fact, a dog on the screen.
So as I introduced Mary to the video yesterday, the room was full of Sam.
But I digress. The plan today was to reminisce, to catch up on some of our adventures that I didn’t have the time to put up on the blog. The photo above is from a visit Sam and I made to the Metropolitan Museum to see a special Andy Goldsworthy exhibit on their roof garden. It was a beautiful September day, and Sam was in a great mood. The Goldsworthy pieces were, as expected, very nice. In this photo you can get a sense of their size and shape; essentially a vertical stack of large stones inside a dome made of pieces of lumber.
They also served ice cream on the roof garden. Lucky Sam.
But what most interested Sam was this rooftop view of a giant crane. To Sam it was Cranky the crane, featured in Thomas the Tank Engine, a favorite of his. To grandpa it was a reminder that good art has you looking at the world with greater care and appreciation, such that the crane, building another high-rise apartment building, nicely reflected the habitation for a pile of stones that Goldsworthy had built. Both happening in the greatest city in the world. Thanks, Sam, for showing me that.
GONE BUT NOT....
(my current desktop photo; click to enlarge)
I’ll admit. Friday was hard, very hard. Memories of glorious days, overwhelmed by selfish mourning. Ah well. All are safe in Zagreb, the temperature there is in the 50’s and sunny, the giant Christmas tree is still standing tall in the main square, the carousel still exists for Sam to ride (according to Mom, it was one of his first stops), and the city is as beautiful as he remembers it.
The Brits gave them a warm welcome, and wined and dined Sam as though he was royalty (look forward to seeing some pics). And with only a few further disasters (Paul breaks tooth, Paul misses train, luggage madness…) they completed their journey.
Now that they have safely arrived, we can start to see the humor in the whole losing-passports episode. My favorite was our mad attempt to track down the container carrying the desk carrying the passports. Paul called up the shipping company and asked if we could ride down to the port, open up the container, and get the missing passports. The shipping company guy, probably smiling a bit at our naiveté, said to give it a try. So what the hell. We figure there’d be a couple of old guards sitting at the entrance smoking cigarettes and we’d slip them 50 bucks and get our stuff. And anyway, it was practically on the way to the airport. So we’d stop by the Port of New York, pick up the passports, and get to the airport in time for the 11:00 flight.
Well, uh, the Port was big as a city. The ships and the containers about to be loaded onto them were about a mile away from the guardhouses. The guards were polite, but implacable. And not smoking. There was no way in hell they were gonna let folks climb around on the house-sized containers (of which there were probably a thousand) looking for a particular one. No way. We tearfully begged, pleaded, showed all our official papers, looked as non-terrorist as we could.
Looking back, you gotta laugh.
And looking back is just about all I got right now. I’m gonna be doing extra work on Fridays to try and raise Croatia-trip money. We’re hoping to go over in March.
And then of course there’s the big wedding that we have to buckle down and start planning for!
Yesterday Mary and I visited the new MOMA. Sam was fortunate to see it before he left for Croatia. When he fell asleep during that expedition I followed my regular procedures and paid a visit to the video exhibitions: dark rooms for Sam’s sleeping comfort and great art for me to spend time with. MOMA bought the Eve Sussman video, '89 Seconds at Alcazar', that Sam and I liked at the Whitney Biennial last year, and I watched the 12 minute looped-video about 6 times (with pleasure) before Sam woke. I swear he remembered it from last April:
From the April 16th post: …[the video piece] takes on nothing less than Velazquez's Las Meninas. With actors in full costume on a set that reproduces the room in the painting, Sussman imagines the activity…that might have preceded and followed the split-second arrangement of Velazquez's virtual photograph. Well, Sam goes in, walks right up to the screen and, looking at the princess (whose back is to the camera) says, very loudly: "Mama", then a pause, and "BIGGGGGGG." And when the dog came on the screen he announced "Dog" to all the assembled viewers.
At this most recent visit, Sam wakes, climbs out of the carriage, walks right over to the dog and starts petting the screen. And again turns to the assembled viewers and reminds them quite loudly that it is, in fact, a dog on the screen.
So as I introduced Mary to the video yesterday, the room was full of Sam.
But I digress. The plan today was to reminisce, to catch up on some of our adventures that I didn’t have the time to put up on the blog. The photo above is from a visit Sam and I made to the Metropolitan Museum to see a special Andy Goldsworthy exhibit on their roof garden. It was a beautiful September day, and Sam was in a great mood. The Goldsworthy pieces were, as expected, very nice. In this photo you can get a sense of their size and shape; essentially a vertical stack of large stones inside a dome made of pieces of lumber.
They also served ice cream on the roof garden. Lucky Sam.
But what most interested Sam was this rooftop view of a giant crane. To Sam it was Cranky the crane, featured in Thomas the Tank Engine, a favorite of his. To grandpa it was a reminder that good art has you looking at the world with greater care and appreciation, such that the crane, building another high-rise apartment building, nicely reflected the habitation for a pile of stones that Goldsworthy had built. Both happening in the greatest city in the world. Thanks, Sam, for showing me that.
Monday, January 03, 2005
Sunday, January 02, 2005
...
(click to enlarge, and forgive the time/date stamp which I have no idea how to get rid of once it's there)
The kids packed up, ran around like crazy, went out the night before, worked all night, slept almost not at all, dragged everything downstairs to the Container (a room-sized metal structure sitting on the back of a tractor-trailer; which had to be filled between 8 and 10 a.m.), sealed the Container and sent it off to be loaded on the ship and have it carried over to Croatia.
Two hours later they discovered that their passports were still in their desk. Which was in the Container. Which was now heading for the ship.
After heroic attempts to track down the container on the docks, they realized they were stuck here at least for the holiday weekend.
For Mary and I it was a bit of a reprieve. We had the pleasure of Sam actually living in our home...
So with luck they'll get out of here tomorrow.
Meanwhile, in trying to figure out how to help Sam remember us, someone recommended making photo books for him. Using small photo albums, with one pic and text on each page, I did up the first one. With Sam still here it was sheer pleasure: Mary had him illustrate each page with his lovely squiggles.
Sam and Grandpa
Visit the
Museum of Natural History
(Illustrated by Sam Smithyman)
One morning
Sam woke up
And said Good Morning to Grandma
Grandpa said
Let’s go to the
Natural History Museum
but first Sam had to change his clothes
Then they both
Went to the Subway station
Sam swiped his
Metro Card through the turnstile
Sam said
“There’s our subway train”
When they got to the Museum
The first thing they saw
Was a HUGE dinosaur
That reached all the way
To the ceiling
Sam looked very small
Next to the HUGE
Dinosaur
In the Display Cabinets
Were lots of different animals
Like this Ostrich
Sam had fun
Sitting on the ledges
Of the Display Cabinets
Sam was wearing
His CBGB’s shirt
And he said
“I’m a Rock Star"
Sam had fun
Rolling his apple juice bottle
Under some of the
Display cabinets
And crawling underneath them
To find the bottle
The Triceratops dinosaur
Looks like it’s
Biting Grandpa’s head!!
He climbed
Lots and lots and lots
Of Stairs
And he told Grandpa
To
“Hold on Tight, Grandpa"
Sam and Grandpa
Then went to the bathroom
So that Sam could change
His diaper
Sam washed
His hands
And used
Lots and lots of
Paper towels
To dry his hands
Then it was
Time for Lunch
PIZZA!!!!!!
(Sam loves pizza)
Ummmmmmm…
Good !!
Sam showed Grandpa
His mouth full of Pizza
After lunch was all done
Sam decided it was
Time for his nap
And he said “I want to sleep in the desert"
When Sam woke up
It was time to visit
Another dinosaur
Up close
His teeth
Were very, very
Sharp
Sam decided
That he wanted to dig
For dinosaur bones
(but first he had to put on safety goggles)
He used many
Different tools to explore,
Like a soft brush to
Wipe away the sand from the
Dinosaur bones
Sam asked Grandpa
To help him
And Grandpa was
Very proud of Sam’s work
After his hard work,
Sam found some drawers
With suprises in them
(here’s a bigggggg spider)
The drawer was too high
For Sam to see inside
So he reached in…..
"Look!"
Soon it was time
To go back to
Grandpa’s house,
So they rode the subway home, and Sam drank his apple juice
When they got back to
Their own subway stop,
Sam discovered that
It was raining,
So he opened his umbrella
Sam walked to his
Apartment building
And stomped around in the puddles
Before going inside
When he finally arrived home
And was in Grandpa’s house,
He started reading books
Even before taking off his jacket
It had been a
Wonderful Day
(and some day Sam and Grandpa will visit the Natural History Museum again)
....
(click to enlarge, and forgive the time/date stamp which I have no idea how to get rid of once it's there)
The kids packed up, ran around like crazy, went out the night before, worked all night, slept almost not at all, dragged everything downstairs to the Container (a room-sized metal structure sitting on the back of a tractor-trailer; which had to be filled between 8 and 10 a.m.), sealed the Container and sent it off to be loaded on the ship and have it carried over to Croatia.
Two hours later they discovered that their passports were still in their desk. Which was in the Container. Which was now heading for the ship.
After heroic attempts to track down the container on the docks, they realized they were stuck here at least for the holiday weekend.
For Mary and I it was a bit of a reprieve. We had the pleasure of Sam actually living in our home...
So with luck they'll get out of here tomorrow.
Meanwhile, in trying to figure out how to help Sam remember us, someone recommended making photo books for him. Using small photo albums, with one pic and text on each page, I did up the first one. With Sam still here it was sheer pleasure: Mary had him illustrate each page with his lovely squiggles.
Sam and Grandpa
Visit the
Museum of Natural History
(Illustrated by Sam Smithyman)
One morning
Sam woke up
And said Good Morning to Grandma
Grandpa said
Let’s go to the
Natural History Museum
but first Sam had to change his clothes
Then they both
Went to the Subway station
Sam swiped his
Metro Card through the turnstile
Sam said
“There’s our subway train”
When they got to the Museum
The first thing they saw
Was a HUGE dinosaur
That reached all the way
To the ceiling
Sam looked very small
Next to the HUGE
Dinosaur
In the Display Cabinets
Were lots of different animals
Like this Ostrich
Sam had fun
Sitting on the ledges
Of the Display Cabinets
Sam was wearing
His CBGB’s shirt
And he said
“I’m a Rock Star"
Sam had fun
Rolling his apple juice bottle
Under some of the
Display cabinets
And crawling underneath them
To find the bottle
The Triceratops dinosaur
Looks like it’s
Biting Grandpa’s head!!
He climbed
Lots and lots and lots
Of Stairs
And he told Grandpa
To
“Hold on Tight, Grandpa"
Sam and Grandpa
Then went to the bathroom
So that Sam could change
His diaper
Sam washed
His hands
And used
Lots and lots of
Paper towels
To dry his hands
Then it was
Time for Lunch
PIZZA!!!!!!
(Sam loves pizza)
Ummmmmmm…
Good !!
Sam showed Grandpa
His mouth full of Pizza
After lunch was all done
Sam decided it was
Time for his nap
And he said “I want to sleep in the desert"
When Sam woke up
It was time to visit
Another dinosaur
Up close
His teeth
Were very, very
Sharp
Sam decided
That he wanted to dig
For dinosaur bones
(but first he had to put on safety goggles)
He used many
Different tools to explore,
Like a soft brush to
Wipe away the sand from the
Dinosaur bones
Sam asked Grandpa
To help him
And Grandpa was
Very proud of Sam’s work
After his hard work,
Sam found some drawers
With suprises in them
(here’s a bigggggg spider)
The drawer was too high
For Sam to see inside
So he reached in…..
"Look!"
Soon it was time
To go back to
Grandpa’s house,
So they rode the subway home, and Sam drank his apple juice
When they got back to
Their own subway stop,
Sam discovered that
It was raining,
So he opened his umbrella
Sam walked to his
Apartment building
And stomped around in the puddles
Before going inside
When he finally arrived home
And was in Grandpa’s house,
He started reading books
Even before taking off his jacket
It had been a
Wonderful Day
(and some day Sam and Grandpa will visit the Natural History Museum again)
....