Lift Up Your Hearts!

I went to Amazon.com this morning, and learned that they have raised the minimum purchase for free shipping from $25 to $35.  And many people still think inflation isn't a problem!

I'm glad Amazon.de is smarter and still has free shipping for books to Switzerland, but this sure puts a crimp in my U.S. purchases.

Until inflation catches up, anyway.

Jonathan, in his dinnertime prayer, described it with many more superlatives and much more enthusiasm, but it was, indeed a fun day.  It began, as usual, with Jonathan and Noah coming to my room at 7:00.  They said they'd actually been here earlier but had retreated because they could tell by looking under the door that my light was not on, but I did not hear them, possibly because I'd been up past midnight writing yesterday's update.

We had fun with craft projects, reading books, and talking with Dad-o over the computer, but the main event of the day was a Harvest Festival in Londonderry, New Hampshire, where Jon was playing trombone in a jazz band concert.  It was the best kind of concert to attend with five young children:  Although the musicians were sheltered in a barn, the door was wide open and the volume sufficient that it was best heard from outside, where there were set up all sorts of booths with informative exhibits and games for kids.  Jonathan roamed freely and garnered all sorts of candy and prizes, including one for first place in a doughnut-eating contest.  Not an all-you-can-eat kind, but one where the doughut is suspended from a string and you must eat it without using your hands.  I didn't get a picture of the winner, but Faith came in second when it was her turn:

After the concert was over and the kids had exhausted the games, if not quite themselves, we walked to a nearby church and picked apples, having first received permission, of course.  It's an untended orchard, so the apples had not been sprayed, making them (1) safe to eat, right off the tree, (2) not pretty like grocery store apples, and (3) very nostalgic for me, as I grew up delighting in apples from such trees.

Finally, it was time to go home ... or so we thought.  But on the way home we passed a fire department open house, and how could a firefighter's family resist?  Big trucks to climb in, ladders to watch in action (but alas, not to climb), hoses to spray, uniforms to don, and plastic helmets to bring home.  Joy, who wears her "fire shirt" as often as she can, and is frequently heard to say, "Bye!  I going on a fire call!" loved this part of the show:

Jeremiah enjoyed himself, too, except for the beginning and the end:  in his car seat on the rides there and back he pretty much either screamed or slept, with far too little of the latter.  So we were all glad to get home, enjoy a take-out Chinese dinner, and take advantage of an early bedtime.  Except, of course, that it's already late and I'm still writing this ... but it won't be midnight this time!

It's not quite Heather's birthday, but it looked like a good, (relatively) quiet day to celebrate, so that's what we did.  It started out normally, with Jonathan knocking on my door right at 7:00, and Noah following not long after.  Soon the day took an unexpected twist, however, when we went downstairs and discovered that Jon was not just up, but hadn't been to bed at all last night, thanks to a particularly problematic server crisis.  We kept expecting him to take a nap, but he never did, for after he solved the server problem, several customers wanted his attention for one thing or another.

What made the situation particularly interesting was that during our early-morning time together, Jonathan, Noah, and I had been talking about the difference between doctors and nurses, and that led to a discussion of how difficult it is to do a good job when you don't have enough time to do it right, which led to the example of a certain plumber taking on more jobs than he could handle and therefore getting a reputation for being unreliable, because he promised more than he could deliver.

From there we talked about the importance of both (1) doing good work (getting the plumbing job right) and (2) being a good worker (showing up when you say you will), and about how a self-employed worker's greatest asset is his reputation.  So I gave as an example Lime Daley, which is not the cheapest web host around, but is prized for delivering on its promises—unlike some, who count on you not really needing the capacity they've supposedly sold you—as well as for its prompt and friendly customer service.  Even Lime Daley, I said, will occasionally have a day when customers A, B, C, D, E, and F all need attention at the same time and therefore can't get the normal prompt responses.  In such a case, having a good reputation means that most customers respond well to an apology and an explanation—because they know it's a rare occurrence.  I saw that in my school days, too:  students who were known to be diligent were given more grace over an aberrant missed assignment than those with a reputation as slackers.

I don't really believe that my making up a story about six customers all needing Jon's attention at the same time actually caused it to happen—but if it did, I apologize.

We didn't actually stay home all day, as we had errands to run to the post office, the bank, the town offices, and the library.  This doesn't count as stressful, however, because we didn't drive to any of them:  they were all within easy walking distance, and the weather was very pleasant:  clear, cool, and sunny, a perfect October day. 

That reminds me of another library story.  On Thursday, Jonathan suddenly jumped up, announced, "I need to get to the library now!" and disappeared.  He returned a few minutes later with a copy of The Return of the King.  The library here is closed on Wednesdays, and that sometimes makes Jonathan as antsy as a drug addict whose supply has been temporarily cut off.

It was also a good day for communication:  our most successful Skype session yet with all the Daley and Stücklin cousins together.  Despite the chaos, the kids really enjoyed seeing each other and interacting as best they could under the circumstances.  In addition, Noah discovered Instant Messaging with Dad-o, and they spent a good long time in several sessions talking back and forth.

Heather's special dinner was one of my favorites, too:  Siamese Chicken Curry with Broccoli and Peanuts.  (My apologies, Heather.  Looking at the original recipe I see that I recalled incorrectly that the type of peanuts called for was honey-roasted.  But I still think they're the best.)  She had to make most of it herself, not atypical for a mother.  But at least she didn't have to bake her own cake.

After dinner Heather opened her presents—and Noah even had one for me:  a homemade, hand-woven potholder, my favorite kind.  I appreciated both the potholder and the implicit acknowledgement that if it weren't for Grandma, Mommy wouldn't be celebrating her birthday.

Finally, we enjoyed our extra-fudgy Ghiradelli brownie "cake."  Heather wanted it served warm, so we blatantly ignored the instructions to let the brownies cool completely.  Note for the future:  Be sure to let them cool, if not completely, at least long enough that the candles don't melt.

It was a busy day today so I'll try to make this quick.  Jonathan, having been given permission to come visit me any time after 7 a.m., was at the door as expected, and Noah followed soon thereafter.  The rest of the household isn't officially up until after 8:00, so this means giving up precious time by myself—time I only have first thing in the morning or last thing at night.  But it is oh so worth it to have that time for uninterrupted conversation with my oldest grandchild(ren)!

After breakfast it was time for morning chores and preparation for the Bible study that meets here on a weekly basis.  Noah made us tea (there was also coffee) and then while the meeting was going on, he and Faith beta-tested my newest educational PowerPoint shows.  Suddenly it was lunchtime, then time for afternoon chores, and soon it was time for the boys' karate lessons.  This is a new activity for the family, something Jonathan has been wanting for at least two years.  He and Noah are in the same class, which I was able to observe.  Noah does very well; Jonathan in amazing in his focus and the grace of his movements.

We didn't quite have time to get dinner cooked before it was time for Faith's karate lesson, so she and I went there together while the rest of the family ate.  Hers is a "tots" class, so I wasn't expecting much, but she showed the same determined focus and grace that Jonathan has.  When one of the other parents there commented that the "little blond girl" was blowing away the other, older children with her skills, I pointed out that she has the example of her two older brothers to follow.  As I said yesterday, the educational value of older siblings is tremendous.  Although Joy is not yet old enough for any class at the dojo, she insists that she is also learning karate, at home—and so she is, for her brothers and sister teach her.

Immediately after Faith's class we had handbell choir at church—which is fortunately just across the street from the dojo.  They are always gracious and let me ring with them when I come to visit, and I have a great time.

Finally, we were back at home, where Faith and I had a late dinner, and everyone indulged in homemade coffee ice cream (made with coffee left over from the morning's Bible study) smothered in homemade "Magic Shell" chocolate topping.

And now it's late again—but if I'm going to enjoy the privilege of early morning conversations, I need to grab computer time at night.  Tomorrow we will enjoy an early celebration of Heather's birthday; those of you who know us both will understand that part of the "celebration" will be staying home!

Noah had yesterday's Quote of the Day; now it's Joy's turn:  I love Grandma in our house!

I love being here, Joy!  We all miss Dad-o, however.

The process whereby a child learns to read continues to fascinate me.  Three months ago, Noah, who had just turned seven, demonstrated great progress in learning to read.  But he was not yet a reader.  Back then, he did a good job of making his way through his simplified, beginning readers.  But just now he read to me Curious George Gets a Medal, with its much more advanced vocabulary and structure, and he read fluently, nearly effortlessly, and with great expression.

Similarly, in the time between two years, four months and two years, seven months, Joy's language abilities have exploded.  In that time she has made the transition from two-word phrases to full, mostly clear communication, including correct use of pronouns.  Amazing.

There are advantages and disadvantages to large families, but surely one of the greatest is the example of older siblings.  I'm certain Joy has no idea that her youth should hinder her keeping up with her big brothers and sister.  Her size, maybe:  Jonathan executed a neat vault over the porch railing, and Joy announced that she was not going to follow suit because she would get hurt.  Quite fearless, as a rule, she knows the difference between courage and foolishness.

Quote of the Day, from Noah:  "Grandma, I think you're old enough to wear tie shoes now."  To which I responded, "I'm old enough now to choose to wear Velcro shoes because I like them better."

Bedtime.  It's been a long but fun day.

Happy Birthday!

Congratulations to one of my most faithful readers, who turns 50 today.  Mind you, it's a bit of a stretch to remember back that far myself, but I'm pretty sure the 50's is a great decade.  (I'm not talking about the era of poodle skirts, Elvis, and air raid drills.)

Last night the youth choir at our church gave a concert.  The theme was the history of Contemporary Christian Music, a genre rather low on my list of music that I can stomach appreciate.  But with increasing familiarity—and (I cannot say this too often) the fact that I'm now in a church where we sing it at a volume that does not cause me to think more about the pain in my ears than anything else—I'm beginning to like more than a few of these songs. Besides, these are our kids, and deserve support.  I'm continually amazed not only at how good their voices are, but at how many of them have the guts to stand up and sing solos.  Our music director is amazing—the more I see, the less I can buy his argument that he just has great kids to work with.

Be that as it may, I can't say I enjoyed the selection of songs, even though a number were familiar, some from a long way back.  A couple hit home, however.  Blessed Be Your Name always does.  And then there was Heaven Is in My Heart.  My immediate reaction was that I'd never heard of it.  Then again, it sounded so familiar.  Just not quite right.  Finally, it hit me:  Der Himmel Erfüllt Mein Herz.  I had sung it not much more than a month ago, but as far as I was concerned it was a German praise song.  I had no idea there was an English version.  My mind knows how interconnected the world now is; my heart does, too, since we have intimate connections across the ocean.  But my gut is having trouble catching up, apparently:  running unexpectedly into something from another part of my world always astonishes me.

It's funny how the language challenge adds a complexity that makes praise songs far more interesting, at least when you're singing them.

Here's Vivienne's story.  Janet's here.  Joseph's here.  Stephan's here.

Voting closes in about an hour, I'm afraid, but it's worth a try.  You can vote for them all; probably multiple times, but I don't like ballot-box stuffing.

Correction:  Voting closes October 13; it was submitting the stories that had to be done by today.  But vote now anyway; you'll be surprised how soon a week will pass!

Yesterday I published Joseph's entry in the Seats for Switzerland contest; now it's Janet's turn.  Vivienne's will be up soon, I hope; we've been having some trouble with it.

Thank you for your votes in favor of getting the cousins together!

Seats for Switzerland is a contest run by Swiss Airlines for uniting separated loved ones.  To win, you must tell a convincing story and be chosen by a combination of voter participation and judges' decision.  You also have to be a resident of Switzerland, or you can bet we'd have written our own stories.  Instead, we're publicizing those of the people we want to be reunited with.  Here's is the link to Joseph's story, where you can cast your vote for him.  (It's easy; you only need to provide your name, an e-mail address, and agree to some non-threatening "terms and conditions.")

Y'all know I generally don't like the "vote for me in this contest" idea—but this is for our grandkids!

I'll publish links for the rest of the family when they're up, so you can vote for them, too.  :)  Thank you, thank you.

And all the extroverts out there will never understand why going to a party is a ministry and a sacrifice.  But I'm in the middle of two enjoyable projects with close deadlines, very much in "flow" right now with one of them.  Why would I want to leave the house?

I plan to enjoy myself, of course.  But oh, how my fingers are itching to work!

Saturday, September 28, 2013

Christopher Wilkins, conductor
Jon Kimura Parker, piano

Ron Nelson:  Savannah River Holiday
Mozart:  Piano Concerto No. 20 in D minor
Richard Strauss: Ein Heldenleben

This is the first time in my memory that Maestro Wilkins hasn't opened the season with a big choral work—a neat device that brings in friends and relatives of the choristers as well as others who don't normally attend orchestral concerts.  Even so, there was a good house for this concert.

It was a good concert, too.  The Orlando Philharmonic has grown a good deal as an orchestra since its early days, and is a pleasure to listen to.  The only reason I'm disappointed is that the "big event" of the evening, the Strauss, left me unexcited.  Oh, it's exciting enough to have so many musicians on the stage—just one short of 100, according to Wilkins—but Ein Heldenleben isn't my favorite of Richard Strauss's works.

Jon Kimura Parker did wonderfully with the Mozart, however, and even granted us a short encore:  Rachmaninoff's Prelude in G major.

The Mozart may have been the best, but my favorite piece was Ron Nelson's Savannah River Holiday.  Nelson wrote the piece in 1953, while he was still an undergraduate at Eastman.  Well, that's what the program notes say; his biography says he received his bachelor's degree in 1952.  I'm still impressed.  Here's a quote from his webpage:  "In 1993, his Passacaglia (Homage on B-A-C-H) made history by winning the "triple crown" of major wind band composition prizes."  I include that because I'm pretty sure at least one of our children played that in band.  At least, I'm sure I've heard it performed live somewhere, and that's the most likely place.

While I've been here for Daniel's birth, I've had the privilege of joining the family for their noontime and evening family times.  They begin with a general picking up of toys, followed by the meal.  Family devotions, based on those in the Episcopal Book of Common Prayer, come immediately after lunch, and again in the evening after bedtime preparations and some play time (if the former haven't taken too long).

Two of the most amazing parts of the procedure are individual prayers with the children—Joseph spontaneously started praying for Daniel as he is prayed for by the adults—and singing time.  The latter has been a growth opportunity for me despite all my choir training, because it's done a cappella.  Normally I don't find singing the alto line of hymns to be difficult, but singing without accompaniment is much more of a challenge.  Nonetheless, it's been awesome.  Even our three-part harmony is lovely, and it was really great when Porter was here to add the tenor part to our soprano, alto, and bass.  The kids don't sing with us—yet—but are taking it all in.  Joseph has memorized several of the hymns and can occasionally be heard singing parts of them as he goes about his daily activities.  (We have another grandson who sings or whistles a lot, too.  Recently he was overheard moving seamlessly between Funniculi, Funnicula and Christ the Lord Is Risen Today.)

With all due respect to Sunday School/Children's Church, Vacation Bible School, and the many and varied children's music programs available, I think this integrated family prayer and singing time is an unbeatable foundation for a strong spiritual and musical education.

Not to mention a whole lot of fun.

I've been writing a lot about Joseph, and recently Daniel has taken center stage, so before I write more about either of her brothers, it's time Vivienne had a post of her own.  She is 18 1/2 months old, as Joseph was when I was here for her birth, so it's interesting to observe the similarities and differences, as well of course as their interactions.

I wonder if second children, who are born with a sibling, are more predisposed to compassion and an awareness of the needs of others.  I remember noting that characteristic in Noah, and Vivienne has it in spades.  She's physically very affectionate, too, asking to "snuggle," and freely doling out hugs.  One of the first things she and Joseph do in the morning is to give each other good morning hugs.  Unless Joseph is already eating, or otherwise engaged in intense concentration, that is.  The funny thing is, I remember him as being much more reserved, and less demonstrative in his affection; it seems to me as if he has learned a lot from his younger sister.

And she, of course, is learning a lot from him.  She does not have the same fascination with letters and numbers that he did at 18 months, but knows more about them than most her age, if only in the same way a fish knows about water.  She can already count to five in three languages (Swiss German, English, and French), because we always count the toys as they are being put away.

Vivienne, in one sense, is all girl.  She's a dancer, always moving, especially if there's music or even rhythmic speech to be heard.  She has a petite frame, despite having been born both longer and heavier than Joseph, and has blonde hair with soft curls.  I've mentioned her tender heart; if she notices Joseph needs something, she'll often get it for him, and while she'll scream bloody murder if he takes a toy from her, frequently after getting it back she'll voluntarily hand it to him.  She's adorably cute in her little dresses, and I'm convinced she knows it:  she has a look that can bend adults to her will, and will probably enslave more than a few boys in her teen years.  Joseph has a few favorite pieces of clothing he will wear until forced to change, even to the extent of wearing long sleeves and long pants on hot summer days; Vivienne sometimes finds the day too short to wear just one outfit.  Plus, she loves shoes.  There's a rack of shoes outside the door to the apartment, and a favorite activity is to sit on the steps and try out other people's footwear.  Our Swiss National Day celebration included a bounce house, which Joseph could not get enough of—but Vivienne preferred to investigate the assortment of shoes left on the outside.

But this is no "girly girl."  She'll be an ezer warrior for sure.  She's tender—her cheek is rarely without a tear from some physical or emotional wound—but at the same time tough as nails.  When she wants to get somewhere, she runs rather than walks, reminding me of her cousin Joy.  (On the other hand, if an adult wants her to get somewhere, she must stroll and stop to examine every flower, bug, and pebble.)  She's eager to keep up with her big brother, whether running, climbing, or flinging herself off the slide into the ball pit at the nearby shopping center.  She has a real temper and a scream that would wake the dead, leading me to suspect that her Irish ancestry (on both sides, though somewhat distant) has contributed more than the slight reddish tinge to her blonde hair.  But she recovers quickly and is quick to sign, "sorry."  She's much like her mother at that age:  her hair is fine and with all the activity won't stay combed for more than a minute, which contributes to a ragamuffin, gamine look—as do the skinned knees and an affinity for dirt and water.

Ah, water.  Called "mo-mo," for no reason discernable in either English or German, it's a Vivienne magnet.  Water is her beverage of choice at all meals, and many times in between.  She'll drink from a cup, directly from the faucet, and from any vessel that passes through her hands while she helps me wash dishes, which is one of her favorite activities.  In a book, in a video, through the bus window—if Waldo were water, Vivienne would spot him before anyone else.  If there's a puddle, she's in it.  Larger bodies of water are even better, especially if there are stones around; as far as Vivienne is concerned, the purpose of pebbles is to be thrown into any available water.

But water is not her only love.  She's crazy about airplanes of any sort, especially the jets that fly overhead multiple times a day, to and from the nearby military airfield.  When they were considering this apartment, Joseph was eight months old, and Janet saw the airfield as a plus, thinking it would be great fun for a little boy to grow up watching the jets.  And he does enjoy them, but not nearly as much as Vivienne does:  she must run to the window whenever she hears their (extremely loud) sound.  She's also the more enthusiastic about watching the new construction going on next door:  the diggers, the bulldozer, the front loader all doing their (very loud) work all day, every day but Sundays and holidays.  (Did I mention enough times that it is loud here, and do you remember that we have a newborn in the house?  Oddly enough, none of it seems to bother Daniel, though he was intelligent enough to be born on Mariä Himmelfahrt, so his first day was uncharacteristically quiet for him in this Catholic canton.)

Here is another difference between Joseph and Vivienne:  At this age, his wooden number puzzle was one of the great joys of Joseph's life.  Vivienne also likes the puzzle, and can easily put the pieces in the right places, but the + and x pieces, which to Joseph were "addition" and "multiplication," are both airplanes to Vivienne.

Vivienne adores going out, whether to help in the garden, or to run errands, or simply to play on the swingset.  Oh, how she loves to swing!  She has been able to hold on well to regular swings from a young age, and has a much longer attention span for swinging than most adults, who often alleviate their boredom by counting the pushes.  (Joseph makes that a challenge by requesting the count be in French, or by 5's, or as he did recently for me, by 51's.  He's patient with my struggles, but if he asks for 51's in French, I'm giving up.)

She also loves balls, can throw pretty decently, and kick really well for her age.  Not to mention carry them around in her mouth like a mama cat with her kittens.

The biggest change in Vivienne in the four weeks I've been here is an absolute explosion in language.  Both English and German, but more noticeable (at least to me) in English, probably because it's been the dominant tongue in use since I came (though not exclusive by any means).  The meaning is clear enough for those in the know, though there's not a lot yet that would be understandable to outsiders—except for "Nei!  Nei!  Nei!" which with a shake of the head and a stamp of the foot may be the most universally recognizable utterance.  "Nei" has been around for a long time, but recently she has added "no" for my sake; even at her age she is sensitive to who speaks what language.  It is an exciting privilege to be present at this point in her development.

As it is to watch all of our grandchildren blossom, each in his or her own, individual, marvellous way.

Vivienne's post is overdue, but it's long, and getting written in bits and snatches.  So today I'll record a Joseph story before I forget it.

Early this morning, Joseph awoke and went into the bathroom to get dressed.  He seemed to be spending an inordinate amount of time in there, so I peeked in (the door was open) to discover him sitting naked, counting the holes in the laundry hamper.  In French.  I backed out and left him alone, though I made a point of listening.  He counted 115 with no trouble, which was impressive, given how squirrelly French counting gets past 69.

But this hamper might have been designed just for Joseph, because the air vents are not just holes, but shaped into circles, triangles, and rectangles.  After the first enumeration, Joseph began again, this time counting the triangles....

There's never a dull moment around here; it's time to write them up that's scarce.