Open all night...

As I sit awake for the fifth straight night, it occurs to me that I might have some form of insomnia...

A Visit to Heart's Bend

In 1990 I took a job at a summer camp in Southern Vermont called "Heart's Bend." Over the years I have asked myself why, and, to the best of my recollection, I think the answer is this. First, I couldn't stand the idea of working for my father at his Harley dealership for one more year. I was never cut out to be a Harley man. No matter how much I appreciated how much he did for me, I knew that I could never, ever, follow in his footsteps...The second reason was that my girlfriend at the time, whose opinion meant everything to me, told me that working at a camp was one of the most important and formative jobs she had ever had. Third, I was lost...I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life, and the camp seemed as good a place as any for me to be....What it all amounts to is an accident, a very happy accident….I had no idea how much it would change my life, but, to be honest, it changed everything.

Flash forward to this past weekend...the camp has been closed since around 1995 and a few of us decided to trek to Vermont from various parts of the country to reunite, celebrate, recollect and commemorate that which we had all loved and lost and to share what and who we are today....

As we sat around the fire tonight singing all the old favorites accompanied by myself and the wonderful Miss Harriet on guitar, as we laughed and cried through a screening of "Up the Bungus", and as we shared the company of friends whose paths had diverged in the woods—only to return again, at least temporarily, to this wonderful moment in time—I felt a powerful sense of gratitude. Gratitude to Nina for her incredible vision and passion to create such a beautiful refuge for the human spirit all those many years ago...gratitude for the friends I made here almost twenty years ago (who still hold such an important place in my heart)...and gratitude that I was given this chance to experience it all one last time...Seeing my children’s smiles as they too are swept up into the infectious joy which is, as my daughter Lilac has come to call “Camp Magic Land”, I can only thank god (or whoever) that I have had this moment, however brief, to share it with them.
So, I am sitting here in my rustic little room at the River's Bend Motel in Newfane, VT while three of my five kids are snoozing away peacefully beside me...thoughts, images and recollections of a perfect day dance through my mind...and, as happy as I am to have spent time with lost friends and forgotten places, I am saddened by the thought that there is no Heart's Bend for my own children. Perhaps, some day, they too will have the same kind of happy accident that I did nearly twenty years ago…

A small complaint...

Okay, Okay...here's the deal. This past year I made proposals for two classes that I wanted to teach at GFA during the summer. One was a full-length Algebra course for credit and the other a course I made up called Algebra Refresher. Here is the problem, while the first course received a respectable amount of sign-ups, the second course only had two. When I told the powers that be that I wanted to cancel the course I was informed that I could not...because...wait for it...It is GFA's only remedial course. Holy crap, are you kidding me? I made the dang thing up, and now, because GFA arbitrarily wants to start a remediation program, I am being forced to sacrifice thirty hours of my time for an absurdly paltry sum of money...I would probably make more money if I took a job at Walmart collecting stray carts from the parking lot, delivering living room sets for Bob's Discount Furniture, or crafting tasty ice cream creations at Coldstone Creamery…Anyway, those jobs would probably be more fun and fruitful…

To Build a Bridge...

Over the past couple of weeks, we have seriously been considering a move to the exotic outer-regions of Bridgeport, Connecticut. Why would we do such a thing, considering the fact that we have a reasonably priced house in a fairly nice neighborhood in New Canan? The fact of the matter is that our current rental house is just not big enough for all of us...We have seven people and only three bedrooms. Most nights, we have two babies in the bed with Lisa which leaves two bedrooms for the other four of us. Jackson has taken to sleeping in the attic in a Giant Lovesac that I nearly killed myself hauling up there two years ago, so I usually end up sleeping on the couch or crunching myself into a little ball in Julian's bed. Lilac basically roves from one locale to other, presumably directed by the echoes of her dreams...

Another reason why leaving New Canaan would be good is because, honestly, New Canaan is probably the snootiest, strangest, most unfriendly place I have ever lived. I hate the thought that your neighbors are always watching you to see what you're doing, making sure your lawn is mowed and your trash is taken out. I hate that people actually judge you by how much "bank" you carry or how nice your car is. When I used to watch movies like, say, "The Karate Kid" or "Pretty in Pink", I always thought it was funny how rude the rich people were to the people from the wrong side of the tracks. But darn it, that stuff is real...

So, we found this giant house for rent in Bridegport, about a half mile from the old GE plant, and we're really ready to take the leap....

I'm Julian

Hi I am Julian. I am Jay's son. I am 7 years old and i love to dance and sing REALLY loud. I Just wanted to introduce myself. So howdy-doo-da. Nice to meet you. You can probably hear from me tomorrow if you would like.

CANADA/ Introducing Lilac

Well i am Lilac All should know who i am but in case you didn't i am Jay's daughter the most awesome of the kids. I don't mean to brag but i only tell the truth. So now on to the topic of the ever satisfyingly cold Canada and could you believe it, It was my schools french trip. And yes i do take french thank you very much and  am proud of the grades that i continue to get. 100% just in case you wanted to know. When we were there there was some drama some sadness but over all the food was DELICIOUS and there was a LOT of it. And the amount of never ending maple syrup is astounding. I  other words there was a massive amount. I took 56 pictures on 2 different disposable cameras. And i took really good ones and then some really bad ones. But none just in between. My hotel room was gorgeous, and the people with me brought candy and we ate it all the first night. Plus, we had to walk every where we went except the places that were more than a half hour away on foot. This by the way is not fun when you are wearing 20 pounds of winter "gear." SO to finish up my first blog entry i would like to say that i had a ton of fun in Canada. and that anyone who reads this rox my sox!!!!!!!!      

Friday the 13th

Over the past fifteen years or so, horror movies have become a sort of hobby of mine.  Now, I can't claim that it was a hobby of choice, because although I have always loved to read horror stories, the movies used to really bother me.  That was before I met my friend Dan...

Dan is a really strange guy.  Don't get me wrong, I love him with all my heart, but the dude is twisted.  For example, he has this theory about how shrimp are plotting to take over the world by leaving traces of their subtle bodies in us each time we consume one.  The idea is that one day a giant mother shrimp will rise up from its resting place on the ocean floor and control us all.  Anyway, he is the one who really got me interested in horror movies, forcing me to sit through "Re-Animator", "From Beyond", "Brain Damage", "Basket Case", "Rawhead Rex", "Hellraiser", "The Omen" and thousands of others.  At first, part of the enjoyment for him was to watch my looks of shock and disgust, but after awhile I actually started to enjoy myself, so he had to find his entertainment elsewhere.  

Well, this friday I went to see the new Friday the 13th movie and, while packed with a lot of the staples of classic slasher horror, I was disappointed by the over-indulgence in modern-day horror staples such as the one-liner,  the gratuitous sex scene and the overuse of drugs and alcohol.  In some ways, the film was more like a Red-Man and Method-Man film than a horror joint.  The most entertaining part of the film for me was the kid sitting next to me who kept shouting to his friend, something to the effect, "Hey...Mike...Jason go hard."  I can't be entirely sure, but going hard seemed to mean something like 37 different things.  If Jason did something funny, or scary, or he ran really fast, or he made some ubiquitous appearance, or he killed somebody in a particularly brutal way, this intrepid fan would shout, "Jason go hard."  Well who am I to say any different?

The Missionaries...

Today when I got home from work, the Mormon Missionaries were standing on our porch and, I presume, hoping to come in. By the time I actually got inside myself, Lisa had already invited them in and, as I burst in through the back door, I could see them huddling in the dark in the front entryway.

I had met the taller of the two, but the shorter one, Elder Anderson I believe, was new. He introduced himself, asked what I did for work and confessed a fear and hatred of math. Although I am a math teacher, I never feel anything but sympathy when a person doesn't like math. To me, its like somebody saying they don't like ice cream. Sad really.

Anyway, he went on to ask if we knew anbody who was maybe looking for religion in their life, and I immediately thought of my annoyingly passive aggressive neighbor who reported us to the landlord for having garbage on our porch. I said, "Yes, I think our neighbors are in need of something," I didn't want to tell them that the thing I though my neighbor needed was a kick in the backside, but I continued anyway, "I think you need to stop by and give them a talk on charity and loving thy neighbor..."

Good Fences Make Good Neighbors...

Imagine my delight this morning when I received an unexpected phone call from my landlord, who just wanted to inform me that one of our neighbors had called to complain of our, admittedly very large, garbage pile which had been collecting on our back porch for the past two weeks. I was totally fine with the idea that they were not impressed with our Mount Everest sized pile of waste, but I was not fine with the idea that they did not ask us themselves to do something about it. I have always tried to stay out of my neighbor's way, as it is our philosophy that there are neighbors and there are friends and never the two shall meet. The problem here is that their dog, patches, or snuggles or whatever the heck his name is has been pillaging our trash ever since we moved here. Furthermore, the man is one of those "guys" who spend a great deal of time standing around looking macho, striking poses of impressive masculinity and throw off the "I am the toughest man on the block, so don't mess with me" vibe. However, when it comes to a simple human confrontation, they don't have the sack to do it themselves...Its sad really.

First words...

This weekend Jackson and Lilac have been on a four-day trip to Quebec with the french department of Greens Farms Academy. Although we mostly did not hear from them, we did get a surprising phone call from Jackson today, asking--in all honesty mind you--if he could purchase a Siberian Husky. We assume that he planned to smuggle it back into the United States in his carry-on bag. The very surprising thing about it was that he really though this was an okay idea, and, perhaps we were being unreasonable for saying no. Lilac on the other hand told us about how she ordered two meals while there and they messed them up both times. Now, either Lilac is really bad at ordering in French, or the Quebecois were, in fact, out to get her. I have been to Canada, so I am inclined to thing it is actually the latter.