And then, and then, and then, and then...

We woke up in Detroit and said, "Good morning, eh?" to Canada. Not really, but it was interesting to consider that we were looking South -- to Canada. There is nothing interesting that I can say about Detroit that won't be completely lame compared to the insight and beauty and humor that you can find on the Sweet Juniper blog. (I do realize that by providing that link I just committed blogicide, as those of you reading will now spend your disposable blog-reading-time over there. I get it; you go with my blessing. If my own kids wanted to abdicate their current positions as the kids in our family to join that family I would understand.)  

We went by the Honeybee market to get stuff for breakfast (the cookies were not for breakfast, but a treat to bring to the Chicago cousins... their aunt was a Mormon missionary in Spain and so we thought she could help us with our espanol as we devoured these gourmet days of the week)... 

We drove by the Heidelberg Project.  Quotes from the kids:

"I wish I got to help do this."

"That toilet says, 'Go' -- that is brilliant."

"Look there's Noah's Ark." (A boat piled with stuffed animals.)

"I wish I got to help do this."

"Is that a real tombstone?"

"Are those plastic lady's private parts art or decoration?"

"I wish I got to help do this."

On to Detroit Institute of Arts.  It was absolutely beautiful, but The Dad had a million things on the agenda, so it was basically a big run to the Diego Rivera Court (one of his "favorite places") with me or the kids occasionally getting out of line and stopping to look at something amazing... 

I have so many things that I want to say about this room, and I know that my frazzled travel-brain is not going to be my friend here. First there is the baby that I've heard referenced as the ultimate in symbolic gestures, and so it tweaked me to find out that originally Rivera had planned on putting a sugar beet there. Then his wife, Frida Kahlo miscarried and he changed the plans. I tried to get a family discussion going on this idea -- that sometimes  important things that have an impact are not part of a plan, they happen organically, and strangely, sometimes they come from tragedy. But it all sounded too big and too clumsy to really discuss. 

We did discuss the more obvious ideas, that man is, and technology is, and industry is motivating and brilliant, but just as we can create medicine to heal and protect, we also create gas that kills and maims. The guide talked to us about the plow blades (a symbol for "progress") in the picture with the baby: the plow is what helps us get nutrients from the earth, but in their proximity to the baby we also see how they can be a threat. My favorite part is a nativity scene -- there is a baby getting inoculated with three wise men (doctors/scientists) in the back, etc. Here is an example where I wished we had time to observe and come up with our own ideas. While it was cool when the guide pointed it out, I wish we had had the time to see if we would have turned on our own lightbulbs. It's a rush when you make a connection on your own. 

And then SWOOSH! On to the Henry Ford museum. I know that there are different viewpoints regarding whether or not the experience here is weird in its inauthenticity (to take something from its context and plop it down next to other things taken out of context), or awesome. Just like I could spend a month there looking and reading everything, it will take me more than one rushed trip to come up with an opinion. Until then I will say that it was awesome to go past the "Teenager's room from 1987" and be able to point to the poster and say: "They're the one's that sing Route 66!"

And ten minutes later be sitting on the bus that Rosa Parks sat on and listening to a recording of her voice. 

And then from the seat of a steam train have the boy muse on whether or not he should consider model trains as a hobby in addition to dreaming about chickens...

And then make a mold of Abraham Lincoln's head for $2... 

The context on so much of this might have been lost, but good golly-golly it's an efficient way to expose yourself to history and ideas. I often shake my fists in the air when efficiency and convenience trump everything else... so again, I don't know... My values have taken a beating by the close proximity of the Wienermobile to a clip of Lucy eating the chocolates on the conveyer belt. The kids said that it was one of their favorite museums and they really want to go back and spend more time. Time. We ran out of it -- The Dad was shunting us back into the (non-American made) car so we could drive on to the Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore.

There is a farm there where a Swedish family lived, and it made me think that we need to read My Antonia this year -- In April. (It should always be read in April because of one of the perfect passages it contains about April.) I will have to omit the wolf scene though. And this is precisely what I was trying to say in an earlier post -- how are we developing our curriculum? It's just coming... I can't really say that you have to drive to Indiana and read about a Swedish farming family and then immediately realize that in April we will need to read My Antonia... It's just coming. If we keep moving, the plan for the future just keeps unfolding.

The dunes were crazy-fun to run down -- that exhilaration that comes when you're just barely on this side of being in control of your body. Down the dunes and towards the water while holding hands with your kid and watching your spouse running ahead and laughing while holding hands with your other laughing kid. Considering I've been gifted that moment I should never be snotty again... 

With more reading, identifying, picture drawing, sand dune running and accessing whether or not the water would be fit to swim more Junior Ranger badges were earned. An added bonus were stickers from Michelle Obama given to kiddos who go on a hike.

I'm always piss-faced mad when The Dad pulls us along from one thing to another, but as we drove towards Chicago and those final sun rays splintered off of Lake Michigan I had to admit that there's not any of these things that I would have wanted to miss. 

There Should Be a Badge for Roadtripping

Inching our way to Detroit. We stopped at the Delaware Water Gap to stretch our legs and finish up a Junior Ranger program. They didn't show up in the picture, but there were two ladies with kerchiefs on their heads and skirts pulled up to their knees sitting and looking at the water while smoking the sweetest, best-smelling cigars. Reminded me of my grandpa's pipe. 

We got to talking about Cash Cab (because Grandma watches it religiously), and we created Cash Car that Clunks. The spawn studied various science and social studies literature that we brought, and then I asked questions. They had to confer and if they got the answer right they earned $1 spending money for the trip. Surprising how steel-trap like their minds became. 

We are all tired of being in the car, but knowing what's in store this week I'm grateful to not be driving.

Bonus Post/Test

Testing to see how this goes with my phone...

Music Appreciation:
Mixed Tape (errrrr CD burned from play-list)

1 Route 66/Chuck Berry
2 Route 66/Depeche Mode (these first two were a test... to see if the students are cool... though to be totally honest, the older I get the more I can tolerate, even appreciate non-DM versions)
3 Boogie-Woogie Bugle Boy/Andrew Sisters (the great-grandma we are visiting is an Andrew Sisters fan -- I can see her dancing around to this while doing her dishes -- i tell the kids that and they giggle... and it brings to mind a road trip with my mom and best friend when I was about 13 (?) and it was either this tape or am radio)
4 I'd Like to Live on the Moon/Ernie
5 One Way or Another/Blondie
6 Puff the Magic Dragon/PP&M 
7 Autumn in NY/Sinatra
8 A Kiss to Build a Dream On/Louis Armstrong
9 Wonderful World/Louis Armstrong (this was really crappy mixed-tape creating -- IF you have absolute need to include two songs from the same artist you are never supposed to order them back-to-back... frickin' amateur...)
10 Visiting the Zoo/Dramarama (yes, we are... and this song reminds me of my older sister who ALWAYS brought her mixed tapes and dominated the music in the car... though I should have been grateful... after she left I obviously didn't bring anything to the table if I was relying on my mom's Andrew Sisters collection...)
11 Jailhouse Rock/Elvis (we all fancy EP)
12 St. Louis Blues/Bessie Smith, Louis Armstrong 
13 Fox in the Fields/Fantastic Mr. Fox 
14 Call Me Al/Paul Simon 
15 Soul Sister/Glee (don't ask)
16 I'm Sticking With You/Velvet Underground (today is our anniversary)
17 Little People/Les Miserables (our urchins enjoy this song... I don't, but we have the West End version, so I can suffer through because of the British accent)
18 God Only Knows/Beach Boys (we took this route before and stopped in Cleveland at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame... learning about this song there completely changed how I think about recording music -- it's an art)
19 Crazy Love/Van Morrison 
20 Stuck in the Middle/Stealers Wheel
21 Get You into My Life/Beatles
22 I've Had the Time of My Life/Dirty Dancing (what the what? yet another reference to a roadtrip when I was a kid... I guess I was creating a loop -- choosing songs I connect with childhood roadtrips so they will have the same connections... in this case I was in a caravan with four other friends and two moms and we kept playing and flipping this Dirty Dancing soundtrack... I often scratch my head over the fact that our moms let us constantly watch this movie as 12-year olds... I guess watching Grease as seven-year olds had adequately prepared us for mature themes???)
23 Night Waltz 1/A Little Night Music (the offspring love the part when Angela Landsbury says, "To lose a lover even a husband or two during the course of one's life can be vexing, but to lose one's teeth is a catastrophe. Bear that in mind, child, as you chomp so recklessly into that ginger snap."

And I'm spent. This was too long of an experiment. Took me longer to peck this out on my phone then to listen to the playlist. 

Adventure. A-D-V-E-N-T-U-R-E. Adventure.

Those are spelling bees and I chucked them at my kids today.

As mentioned, we are rereading a family favorite, Eleanor Estes's book The Witch Family. Written in 1960, it's charming and kind of quirky and perfect for Halloween. Like The Phantom Tollbooth, there are puns and clever exchanges. At one point the idea is posited that knowing how to spell is just as important as knowing a spell. One of the characters is a funky spelling bee named Malachi and he stings those who get things all wrong... 

So today for "art" the kiddos made little bumblebees, then after studying their words (that they copied yesterday) they stood up on a bench and attempted correct spellings. As it seemed negative to pelt them if they missed the word, and because they rather fancied their bees, the deal was that they got a bee thrown at them if they got the word right.

Bees were made out of pom-poms wrapped in tissue paper and decorated... As it turned out they didn't "fly" very far. The Sister suggested using pennies for weight, but when The Girl looked scandalized and said, "Hello. That would hurt," I realized that this might just be on the cusp of abuse. So we used pom-poms. And it was a reward to be stung. The end.

By way of information: we are about to embark on what may be the biggest adventure since Pee-Wee's. I have an enigmatic uncle that I've only met once or twice and my grandma has taken the train across country to visit him in Chicago. My husband's brother and his family also live in Chicago. The four of us are all driving to Chicago to get us some of that family time. Should be interesting (unless I find out that enigmatic uncle buries people in his backyard, thus the secretive, I mean introversive personality... in which case I might choose a different word than "interesting"). After the weekend, The Dad has to fly home and the kids and I (sans Sister -- she has a class here she can't miss) are going to take Route 66 to St. Louis, see the sights, and then I'm driving by myself back to NYC. I haven't really driven a car for the past eight or so years. Driving is insane. As I was saying to a friend tonight, it's like everybody in the world being given a set of gardening shears and running at full tilt. Sure it's fine -- as long as there's absolutely no contact or the slightest of stumbles. I'm worried about merging. I'm worried about getting lost. I'm worried about having a heart attack at the wheel. I'm worried about a kid throwing up and choking. I'm worried about being assaulted in our hotel room and being left in a bathtub of ice after our organs have been harvested (yes, harvested) for the black market. You name it, I'm worried about it. Which is why I need to do this -- conquer my fears and all that crap. I was raised by a single mom -- if she hadn't struck out on her own then we would never have done anything. For the single moms -- I'm also doing this for you because I love you -- you represent my history, you are my model of what a parent who gives it everything looks like.  Darn it, family adventures and traditions are not just for those who are fortunate enough to have back-up. Wish me luck. I will try to update when I can... If you don't hear from me, just hope that my kidneys are going to a good home... 

Stuff and The Gotham Jazzmen

If you look for it, stuff actually is all around. 

I've been asked where I'm getting my materials and the answer is everywhere. At the fair that we went to in Maine there was a building full of displays with tables full of take-aways. We had no shame in filling our pockets: booklets that can be used to teach summary analysis, charts and graphs that can be used for math lessons, plant/fungi/nest/fish identification sheets that can be used to discuss grouping/organizing... all of it can be used for art projects...

Before we left on our trip I was in Muji (a slick "cool" store that I doubt many would consider a hotbed for home schooling...) and picked up a three-pack of notebooks for the kids to use as trip journals -- for under $3. 

Instructions for the journal: they needed to try to fill all the pages with not just facts/lists of what we did, but also ideas and pictures. The journals turned out brilliant. On Monday night the kids took turns reading out loud from them and they were happy.

Today, I went through each journal and found words that they had misspelled and wrote them on the old school elementary lined paper. Before we started our little lesson that incorporated both spelling and handwriting we gathered around the computer and discussed two caveats:

The kids are familiar with Pablo Picasso -- specifically they are drawn to Les Demoiselles d'Avignon. A year or so ago I went on a museum walk with a brilliant woman whose background was in art history and I returned home bursting with my newly acquired knowledge. Back I went to the MOMA, with the kids in tow, and shared what I could remember and what I could decipher from my notes ("Look how this one is making eye contact and this one looks like a mask and this one..."). Since then they like to visit that painting and share details that they remember and notice. Knowing that "Picasso" readily summons that painting for them I pulled up examples of his early works -- they were intrigued. We compared these examples with the "poor dears" (as Sister Wendy calls the prostitutes).

"Did Picasso paint her face that way because he couldn't paint a "realistic" face?" Apparently not. 

The discussion wasn't belabored, just a quick exploration of this idea: we learn the basics that everybody learns and then we are prepared to understand and create our own style. I even said that I hoped that their handwriting wouldn't look like everybody else's when they got older, but for now we learn how to maneuver the pencil -- make it do what we want it to -- and having a standard to use as a goal is helpful. While many parents here on the Upper West Side of NYC are sure their children are geniuses (and perhaps geniuses don't have to learn the same boring stuff as the rest of us), I am pretty sure that my kids will have happier and more successful lives if they learn the value of practicing.

Caveat 1 (handwriting): we learn established practices so we share a foundation with society -- but hopefully they will have their very own handwriting eventually.

Caveat 2 (spelling): if the choice has to be made between getting an awesome idea out on the paper and spelling something right, by all means spell it RONG! But for all other times, and when we go back to reread our awesome ideas, we need to be spelling things according to standard practices -- using the dictionary if necessary.  Unlike handwriting, spelling isn't enhanced by creativity. 

Aside from creating ready material for school-type lessons, our trip was also critical in another way -- being outside a lot. This article that was in the NYT scares the snot out of me, as does this one for that matter. I'm not sure that being scared snotless is going to help anyone, and so I scrabble around and find solace in this. I discovered the book Last Child in the Woods at Eaglefest last year... 

If you look for it, stuff -- to teach, to help as we try our best to raise our kids, to keep our chins up when the worry gets really BIG -- actually is all around. 

(I won't lie though -- it is a full-time job weeding through it...)

On another note -- music appreciation!

While this was happening:

Two other things were happening:

1. The kids wrote really cool little stories.
2. All was right in my world (I *heart* the Gotham Jazzmen). 

Wilde, Exploration

No school today because of Columbus Day, but the students still went to a class that they take through Different directions. (Dd is an impressive organization; while still in its startup stage, its strength is that every student is treated with more genuine interest and respect than I often see in the child-student relationship. There are classes for preschool, home school, after school). 

The kids read and discuss an Oscar Wilde fairy tale with the instructor for the first hour. During the second hour they learn different theatre games and exercises as a way to explore the themes and details that they discovered in the literature. Today at pick-up Judd the Red Chicken was being asked to walk like a character from the tale and as he did so the instructor asked for his reasoning. He gave it and she pushed for more substantive proof from the text for his decision. She said that they would infer later, but for now they were only to bring in what they could prove. I appreciate that the environment is supportive so he felt encouraged to push further, as opposed to feeling like the questioning meant he was lacking. 

Before class we went with some of our favorite people to the Columbus Day Parade along 5th Avenue. Google informs me that the parade has been happening here since the 1920's and it's the largest Italian-American celebration. We cut through Central Park (still mostly green, but smelling like Fall), and felt fortunate to find a good spot. I clapped like I was more than a wee daft when some kilt-wearers marched past (you might ask why there were kilt-wearing bagpipers at an Italian parade... I only ask what I ask every day: why aren't there more kilt-wearing bagpipers...). Friend A was all aglow when Susan Lucci went by waving from the top of an Italian car. (Speaking of Oscar Wilde, that woman clearly has a picture of her decaying self tucked away in a locked room. Wow.)

Each of the five kids were given some sort of picture-taking device. The process was good (they were focused while I clapped daftly over kilts, and the other mom absorbed Erica Kane glow); and the products were great:

To appease Berkeley-esque sensibilities, we did discuss Columbus's faults today. Brave explorer or total jerk? Interestingly, the kids didn't seem to care. I kept trying to get a conversation or debate going, but they were amenable to all suggestions. I read this to them. They were okay with that. Geez, if they've already got it down that rarely does a person, ideal, idea, organization, experience stand up to harsh scrutiny, and that there's usually something redemptive in almost everything(body)... Well, then show me a kilt and call me Susan Lucci -- life is good. 

Roadtrip!

For the past four years, in the Fall, we have gone to Maine. We stay in Bar Harbor; we visit Acadia; it is the true beginning of Autumn. Low sky, trees that come close, leaves and moss carpeting the ground -- the cocoon is spun that is needed to endure the hard upcoming months. Until we moved out East I did not realize the purpose of Fall -- if done right, it fills you with enough to last until Spring. Nothing does Fall like New England. It's more than the foliage. It's the white church steeples creating a stark contrast with the foliage, it's the lakes and streams reflecting the trees and the geese, it's the villages that haven't changed that much in the last sixty, or one hundred-sixty years... It is the most nostalgic of areas for the most nostalgic of the seasons -- apple picking and bonfires and thick sweaters. The perfect season and place to create traditions.

We left on Wednesday (with backpacks full of M&M's) and stopped at our favorite little restaurant in Portland, Maine -- Silly's. The restaurant is fun and the pulled pork and cakes are worth the eleven days they shave off your life. Judd the Red Chicken got stuck in the bathroom and a group of loud, endearing, middle-aged ladies clapped and hooted for him when he was freed.

We always listen to a CD that we bought in Maine -- Bert, and I. It is regional humor that is somehow both dryly understated and ridiculously over-the-top. Created in the 50's -- a precursor to the likes of Lake Wobegon... While there are some jokes that are too subtle for the kids, they cackle along through most of it (sense of humor fine-tuning should be part of the new core curriculum). It's about an eight hour drive, and this CD is allowed to loop several times. We also read from The Witch Family (favorite October book), and made up goofy stories by each taking a turn to supply the next sentence. 

The first thing that we do when we arrive in Bar Harbor is drive by the illuminated moose and let him know that we are back. (Saying, "See you next year," is the last thing that we do.)

Thursday:

Morning in Bar Harbor means putting on our rain boots and heading out to where the tide has left little friends waiting to be found. On our way to the water line we pass our whale statue and say, "Good morning -- we're back." We pass a hydrangea tree that is growing along with our girl -- we take her picture with it. 

We search...

And create a small aquarium in our buckets. This year there were tiny sea stars, teensy crabs the size of pencil erasers, a silver-dollar sized crab, a cool striped shrimp, and a bazillion periwinkles.

We always eat at least one breakfast at Jordan's. The blueberry pancakes with the blueberry syrup... 

And then on to Acadia National Park. The kids' sweatshirts are covered with the Junior Ranger patches that they have earned at a bazillion National Parks/Monuments (yes, yes, we've already covered that we're nerds). It carries some weight when we say that Acadia is our favorite. In the past we have ridden bikes, hiked, enjoyed a horse/carriage ride along the carriage road, and driven to the top of Cadillac Mountain predawn to be some of the first people in the U.S. to see the sun... This year we spent the bulk of our Acadia-time on Sand Beach. We learned from a Ranger that the reason why there are not that many sand beaches in Maine (most are those gorgeous, craggy, rocky landscapes) is because a) the Maine shoreline is kind of inside a mouth created by Cape Cod and Nova Scotia -- this lessens the strength of pounding waves that would make sand by breaking down rock and b) the rocks are a very hard granite that are difficult to pulverize. 

While at the beach we created a very detailed village. By the time we left we had several dead crabs guarding the various shells, feathers, sea weeds, huts, lobster claws, and sticks that amassed together made a macabre and awesome little world...

To further our obsession with Lilliputian sea creatures, we found tiny sand dollars...

We also went on a hike around The Bowl (a mountain lake)... This was enjoyable for a while, but then a few of us (all of us except The Dad) felt that somebody (The Dad) had snookered some of us (all of us except The Dad) into hiking for longer than originally agreed upon, and  it started getting ugly... Before the point when we became that grumbling, dysfunctional family that stomp off camera while spluttering and shaking their heads on those period-type reality shows (e.g. Frontier House) we did notice how beautiful it was... 

And felt quite a kinship with the vandal who appreciates one of our favorite movies -- Nanny McPhee:

Once we made it back to the parking lot and decided to talk civilly to The Dad we went and consumed popovers at the Jordan Pond House before heading back to Bar Harbor where we dodged the rain by popping in and out of the shops. 

We ended the night by getting ice cream at Ben & Bills (the kids and The Dad each get one sample spoonful of the Lobster ice cream; I do not). 

Friday:

Our morning ritual...

Sitting on our balcony with hot cocoa, getting delicious apple tarts, blueberry tarts, and sticky buns at Notch Bakery, and hanging out in front of the fireplace in the hotel lobby... Then grabbing supplies for a soggy picnic -- including Whoopie Pies -- Maine's state dessert. We headed to the College of the Atlantic to run around the campus and then go to one of our favorite tiny museums there where a Ranger leads a discussion at the touch tank (note: the touch tank is stocked by Diver Ed who is the man behind Diver Ed's Dive-In Theater -- a very cool thing to do that the kids loved last year).

The fourth-grade classes at the school the kids went to usually get to do a Clearwater experience where they sail a replica vessel on the Hudson. This was one of the only things that Judd the Red Chicken was worried about missing and we decided that we would try to find something similarly cool during the year. Maine always delivers for us. We all got to sail on the Margaret Todd replica schooner. We watched the crew (and volunteers -- our family did not volunteer) hoist sail and brilliantly coil and tie the ropes. There was a Ranger on the trip who chatted about the history of the area and pointed out the seals when they poked their noses out of the water. 

And then it was time to say goodbye to Bar Harbor because we had other parts of New England to explore...  Taking scenic, but isolated back roads we wound ourselves towards the boarder of Maine and New Hampshire to position ourselves for Saturday...

Saturday:

Created in 1954 Story Land is perfect with it's quirkiness, quaintness, and real animals. At one point the breeze became particularly playful and I stood and watched the leaves and pine needles rain down on the children as they scampered on and among the nursery rhyme structures; I felt all that nostalgia is supposed to feel like -- equal parts loveliness and melancholy. I had to acknowledge that my children are on the older end of the spectrum, and that our visits to Story Land might be drawing to an end. And so I tried to take note of every retro detail:

A quick stop at the Back Country Bakery in Jackson (owned by the coolest couple ever -- the type that bicycled around the world before teaching English in China then decided to buy this little bakery in New England where they do almost all of the delicious baking themselves... they make you feel like a lazy loser... who has to smother your feelings of low self esteem by eating another delicious brownie...)... And then on to the Fryeburg Fair where The Girl got to pet goats to her heart's content (almost -- she would stay for hours if we let her), and The Boy fell madly in love with a chicken (he wants a chicken something fierce and when he found the EXACT chicken of his dreams with the EXACT hairdo, and it was only $10 I saw his heart first leap, and then fall almost dead quivering amongst the straw... to realize that the chicken is out of his grasp despite the fact that he has enough saved up for it is almost too much for a nine-year old to handle... but handle it he did... though there were a lot of sighs coming from the back seat as we drove through New England...). I got to take something out of my bucket list: fried Oreos. As it turns out, you can keep them -- I don't like how they get kind of soft and the lard/frosting in the middle gets lost. 

Sunday:

We drove to Squam Lake because we have been in the general vicinity before, and I had to actually see it because I have this fascination with On Golden Pond. I actually haven't seen the movie since I was a kid because I'm afraid it will wipe away the magical gauze that holds it in my brain. What's in my brain right now is the way the light played off the lake, and the realization for perhaps the first time that grown ups are afraid and that's why they sit around and look at sunsets and sunrises -- somehow that lessens the fear. The jury is still out on whether or not I'm going to watch the movie and inevitably displace my childhood perception, but what I do know is that the lake is beautiful enough to soften the fears that come with being mortal. 

After attending church we continued on our way home. First we stopped by Dartmouth and had lunch (and told the kids that if they chose to go there someday, and got significant financial aid, well, that would probably be okay... we probably wouldn't hate them).

Last year the kids worked their tails off earning a Junior Ranger badge at Saint-Gaudens and Judd the Red Chicken requested that we stop and go through the garden portion again. For some reason The Girl got on a kick as we cut across the grass, and referred to The Sister as a "naked beauty." Her giggles bounced off the sculptures and structures.

Ever closer to home we came. Our final stop was one of our favorite New England towns, Walpole, NH. 

And so our yearly pilgrimage to find Autumn has come and gone and this year we folded in three days of "school." Pelted with rain we returned to the city with our new layer of memories, muddy rain boots, and piles of laundry. I need to do some sorting... Surely the students learned on our extended field trip... 

Last week the family was talking excitedly about the trip and it came up that it might just be better than Christmas... 

This year we didn't have to use the days off that come with the Jewish holidays for our trip. Instead we spent the time here in the city and learned about the meanings behind the days off; as near as I can tell the holidays are about introspection and renewal and family togetherness and hope as a new year begins. I'm grateful that we have a better understanding of that, so that next year if our trip once again falls on the holidays we will know how appropriate it is. There are layers of things to celebrate in this life. Among them is that there exists a place where we can go and feel like everything that traditions represent -- a love for the past that's tied to a hope that all that is good will continue on year after year -- is waiting.  A place where being weathered, the visual manifestation of time passing, makes things better.