Going Home

The Boy and I spent the long Independence Day weekend in my hometown, Montpelier, Vermont. On the drive up Interstate 89 we stopped to visit my father's grave at the Vermont Veterans Cemetary, where I shot the above picture of the view from his headstone and the one below of the state seal on a granite post at the cemetary's entrance.



Montpelier is Vermont's state capital and, while not an otherwise industrial place, it also is home to the country's last plant manufacturing wooden clothes pins.

The Boy and I took in a ball game. We watched the Vermont Mountaineers defeat the Concord (NH) Quarry Dogs (what's a quarry dog?). Both teams are in the New England College Baseball League. Fittingly, the Mountaineers mascot is a woodchuck, the local vernacular for a Vermonter.

Montpelier's Independence Day parade has become a large affair lasting over an hour and featuring politicians, performers, and community groups.

The victorious Mountaineers riding on an historic firetruck.

The sailor's of the Mighty Monty came all the way from their home port of Norfolk, Virginia. One of these days I'm going to look up the story of how the capital of a landlocked state came to have an attack submarine named after it.

The Shriners were there driving their little cars. The Boy remembered them from last year's parade and he was eager to see them again. I remember them from parades when I was his age.

Vermont's Bread and Puppet Theater performed political street theater and had their trademeark washer women and giant flying bird. I also remember Bread and Puppet from parades when I was The Boy's age.

The Boy and I also visited nearby Barre, Vermont to take in a matinee of the new animated movie Cars. We had a few minutes to kill, so I took these pictures of the old Socialist Labor Party Hall. Notice the arm and hammer over the door in the picture above.

Barre is home to the world's largest granite quarry (but no quarry dogs that I've ever seen). It has over the year's attracted and turned out many very talented stonecutters. There are several excellent examples of stonecutting to be found in Barre like the statue pictured below.

Conway Scenic Railroad

The Boy and I drove to North Conway last Saturday just to take a short ride on this historic train.














We purchased tickets to ride in the dome on top of the car pictured above.














The Boy has a book about the Conway Scenic Railroad so he recognized the rail cars and called them by name. When he saw the one in the picture above, he said "there's the Gertrude Stein."

I corrected him, "it's the Gertrude Emma."

Then I asked him "where did you ever hear of Gertrude Stein?"

"I don't know."

I wonder what his mother has been reading to him, or maybe it's his public radio habit.



















It rained all day. The rain got heavier as the day wore on. By the end of the weekend a state of emergency had been declared across the region. Roads and bridges were washed out. Low-lying areas were evacuated due to the threat of flooding. On a rainy Saturday in May riding a train with The Boy was the perfect place to be.

Fathers and Sons

My mother has been sending newspaper clippings to The Boy about Tai Shan, the National Zoo's panda cub also known as Butterstick. So The Boy was pretty eager to see Tai Shan in person on his most recent visit. Tai Shan is an active youngster. He was climbing a tree when we first stopped by to see him.

The panda yard is divide by a wall. Tai Shan was on one side with one parent and the other parent was on the other side of the wall. It just seemed obvious to me that Tai Shan was being kept with his mother, but The Boy insisted that Tai Shan was playing with his dad.

I love the boy.

Men Explained

I have frequently heard that boys mature slower than girls. I do not believe this is true. From what I have seen, boys mature to their full potential quickly and then stop. The only difference between men and boys is their size. To illustrate, I will share a scene I witnessed of The Boy's behavior when he was somewhere around 18 months old:

While I was working in the kitchen on a weekend afternoon, the boy was sitting in his toddler-sized chair, at his toddler-sized table enjoying a drink and a snack. He raised his sippy cup full of soy milk (the boy has a severe dairy allergy) to his lips and tiltling his head back he proceeded to drain it without pausing. He then threw the empty sippy cup aside belching loudly without shame before turning to consume his snack.

The only thing that would have made the scene perfect would have been if he had attempted to crush the empty sippy cup on his forehead before casting it aside.

Meat on Sticks

After spending a good hour or so playing at our favorite playground, it was supper time and The Boy and I both had appetites. I listed some options in town for The Boy to choose from, a place to get sandwiches, a place to get hamburgers, or Chinese food. To my surprise and delight, because it was what I was hankering for, he chose Chinese food.

We went to China Star, a store-front restaurant offering over the counter service for eating-in or carrying-out. I read the appetizers off the menu to The Boy so he could choose what he wanted. He selected chicken fingers. I looked over the menu for something else and ordered sweet and sour pork.

When our food arrived I was disappointed to discover that despite one being an appetizer and the other an entree, chicken fingers and sweet and sour pork were very similar dishes. The chicken fingers were long cuts of chicken breast heavily battered and fried with a bowl of bright red sweet and sour sauce on the side for dipping. The sweet and sour pork was small cubes of pork heavily battered and fried and served in a plate of bright red sweet and sour sauce.

The Boy reminded me that we had ordered food for carry-out from China Star last year, but that we had beef teriyaki, which he called, “meat on sticks."

The next evening, after watching the Independence Day parade, I asked the boy again where he wanted to eat supper, and again he chose Chinese food, so we went back to the China Star. This time we ordered meat on sticks, chicken noodle soup, and mixed Chinese vegetables.

The meat on sticks reminded me of an incident from years earlier, in better times, of eating Chinese food with The Boy’s Mother. We had met in college and befriended each other. She had a boyfriend from home, but after they broke-up our mutual attraction became evident to each of us. We made plans to get together over Christmas break our sophomore year in West Lebanon, New Hampshire, halfway between our homes.

We had lunch that day at a Chinese restaurant called Dragon Island, which offered a buffet – as a college student I thought a Chinese buffet would make for a good first date. The Boy’s Mother much later confided in me, that she had never had Chinese food before, so she didn’t know what she would like from the options on the buffet. She followed my lead by selecting from the buffet the same things that I did. I remember when we were eating that she didn’t eat much of her food and she seemed perplexed as to how to go about eating the meat on sticks, attempting first to bite off the meat from the pointy end of the stick, then reconsidering before she stabbed herself.

China Star restaurant is located at 11-15 Main Street in Montpelier, Vermont. It is open seven days per week serving lunch and dinner.

The Old Schoolyard

The main attraction of the playground at Union Elementary School is the long, green slide built onto the side of a hill. I took the boy there recently for a little recreation. This is the same playground where the Absurdist was routinely picked last for kickball as a child.

It’s long been one of the boy’s favorite playgrounds (long for a four-year-old, that is). He particularly enjoys the long slide. Even as a toddler at 20 months old he would repeatedly run up the steps to go down the twenty-five foot run alone.

On this trip I explained to him that when I was a student at Union Elementary School the big, green slide had not been built yet, but we would slide down the hill in the snow on our butts. No doubt the school built the slide to stop that from happening.

The playground to the side of the school also features a large component play structure by Miracle Recreation Equipment that features three slides including a corkscrew.

Only two items of equipment on the playground date to the Absurdist’s childhood, the swing-sets and a set of parallel bars. Both were once orange but are now green.

There is also a small younger children’s playground behind the school.

Union Elementary School is located at 1 Park Avenue in Montpelier, Vermont.To reach Union Elementary School take Exit 8 off Interstate-89. Continue straight through the first three traffic lights (Route 2). At the third traffic light, turn into the left lane. At the fourth traffic light, turn left onto the bridge (Main Street). You will pass Shaw's Supermarket on the left and Sarducci's Restaurant on the right. Continue straight past City Hall on the right. At the traffic light, turn into the right lane and continue straight past the City Center (a large brick building housing BEN & JERRY'S ICE CREAM). Turn right at the 4-corners onto School Street (you will see churches and the Kellogg Hubbard Library). Continue straight and you will see Union Elementary School ahead of you in a brick building. It is located on the corner of School and Park Streets.

I Can Feel His Beady Little Eyes Staring At Me

The first night The Boy's Mother and I brought him home from the hospital we put him to sleep in a co-sleeper, a kind of bassinet open on one side that was cinched-up to the side of the bed on her side. The Boy was still awake when we put him down to sleep, but he was wrapped tightly in a blanket and was content. We shut-off the light and climbed into bed. Exhausted, I rolled over to go to sleep.

After a couple minutes, The Boy's Mother said, "I can feel his beady little eyes staring at me."

I chuckled. She persisted: "Really. Turn the light on. He's just staring at me."

Being the kind of husband who indulged his wife, I did turn the light on.

Sure enough, the boy was calmly lying there, eyes wide open, staring at his mother.

You Can Get Knocked-Down Too, You Know

My mother tells this story about her and my father: One day, during her first pregnancy - with my sister - she and Dad were walking along. When they reached the corner Dad stopped, but she continued walking accross the street without looking. Since there was a car coming, Dad grabbed her and pulled her back to the curb, and said "you can get knocked-down too, you know."

More! More!

When The Boy, his mother and I still lived together our mail was delivered through a mail slot in the front door. The boy was near the door one evening (for reasons that neither make much sense and are too long to go into now, our mail was delivered in the evening - sometimes very late in the evening when it was delivered at all) as the mail started to arrive through the mail slot a few envelopes at a time. The boy put out his hands to catch the mail and shouted: "More! More!"

Where's my food?

About two years ago my mother, my sister, The Boy, and I went out to dinner at Mr. Chen's on Connecticut Avenue in Woodley Park. We were seated and handed menus. Before the waitress had returned to take our orders, the boy immediately looked around and asked "where's my food?"

A Prairie Home Companion

Last week while the boy was staying with me, my uncle flew-in for a visit. I told the boy that my uncle was visiting from Minnesota, and the boy replied: "Minnesota. I know that show on the radio. I listen to it every Saturday at 7:00."

The Anti-Atkins Diet

Regular readers will recall that I recently asked the question "So, what does he eat?" about the boy's diet. I have discovered the answer: he only eats high carbohydrate foods. Since Tuesday morning he's eaten oatmeal, Cheerios, hummous, and french fries. He has refused every offer of meat or green vegetables. He did eat a quantity of pistachios yesterday and some very spicy fried tofu that his father made. Perhaps this is how he is fueling his current growth spurt; he's become a tall, lanky kid. I'm imagining a future NBA player here.

Phoning it in

I call The Boy every evening before I leave work so we can check in with each other and say goodnight. Last weekend The Boy's Mother suggested that I read books to him over the phone. Deciding that was a good idea, I went to the library and took out my old childhood favorites (I'm a big Dr. Seuss and Maurice Sendak fan) and I've read to him every night this week.

Last night when I called, The Boy's Mother answered the phone and said that The Boy really seems to enjoy listening to me read to him. On speakerphone I heard the boy chime in, "Yeah, it works for me!"

So, what does he eat?

As you may recall, The Boy recently informed me that he does not eat vegetables (see "Kids say the darndest things"). Now his mother informs me that he has stopped eating meat too.

Pat the Butter

Around about the time The Boy was 18 months old he developed a taste for butter (actually it was dairy free margerine - The Boy is deathly allergic to dairy products - but we always called it butter). One day I was buttering toast for the two of us and he was standing next to me at the counter on a stool. He stuck out his hand and said, "put some here!" He was very upset when I said no.

That's what I do here!

It snowed today.

Snow in the Washington metropolitan area is treated as if it is the first of the ten plagues. At a prediction of snowfall everyone runs to the grocery store to stock-up on milk, eggs, and bread. School is cancelled and everyone plans on having the day off from work.

It snowed intermittently throughout the day and started to accumulate late in the afternoon. So, of course, all the area schools were closed all day. Becuase of the school closings and becuase she had work that had to be finished today, my colleague, Feminist Islamist, arrived at work this morning with her 2 year-old and her 6 year-old.

The problem with having your kids at work is that you have to find ways to keep the kids amused so that you can get some work done. This was a constant struggle today for Feminist Islamist. I actually overheard the following snippet of a conversation:

The 6 year-old said, "you have work to do?"

"Yes, I have work to do! That's what I do here! That's why it's called work!"

Sledding at your own risk

One of the joys of fatherhood for me has been sharing childhood play with the boy. I spent a recent weekend with him and with the cold weather and some fresh snow we did a lot of sledding.

I don't remember the last time I went sledding. It might have been in high school. It's quite a rush, so I wonder why I haven't been in years.

Living Memorial Park in Brattleboro Vermont has a ski slope with a ski tow. In fact, it is the site of the world's first ski tow, powered off the rear axel of a Model T, or so my father often told me. This is the town where he grew-up. The original ski tow has been replaced with something a little more sophisticated.

One sign as you approach the softball field at the base of the slope informs you that the hill is not groomed for sledding and that you go sledding at your own risk. Another sign tells you that sledders should stay to the left of the line of potted pine trees. It was midday Saturday and there was just one skier out and a mother and her son sledding.

The hill offers a nice long gentle slope that drops off suddenly for a short steeper one before leveling out onto the softball field. The boy preferred to start at the top of the steep slope. I kept encouraging starting further up. Our first run we went down in our seperate orange plastic toboggans. After that we stacked the sleds and went down together. "I always want to go with you, daddy." "And you always can."

We took several runs and had a great time. Then we poked holes in the ice on the softball field for a while to find the grass hidden beneath the ice, before heading off to find lunch.

Living Memorial Park is located on Guilford Street in Brattleboro Vermont. From Interstate 91 take Exit 2 and turn onto Western Avenue (route 9) away from Brattleboro. Turn left onto Guilford Street at the covered bridge (Creamery Bridge). Living Memorial Park is on the right.

See also "Kids say the darndest things."

Kids say the darndest things

About a year and a half ago when the boy was just two, we were in the grocery store together and I suggested he select a box of crackers for his snacks. He chose Ritz crackers. Thinking that I should guide him towards something a little more healthy, I suggested a box of whole wheat Ritz crackers. "How about these instead?" Now, on this box were pictures of crackers with various toppings, amongst them cheese, small pieces of deli meat, and broccoli florets. The boy points at the box and shouts, "No! That one has broccoli in it!"

Coincidentally, the boy recently declared to me at dinner one evening, "I don't eat vegetables."