The Dedalus Log

but has a date that varies.”

(The Phrase Finder)
 
“The most sublime creation of modern times

is the ideal woman of the average man.

She is a migratory bird, a sort of movable feast as it were.”

(First use of the words as a metaphor: “The Ideal Woman”- Bismarck Tribune, 1882)

“If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man,

then wherever you go for the rest of your life it stays with you,

for Paris is a moveable feast”.

(A Moveable Feast: Ernest Hemingway, 1964)

“The ‘Baby Boom Siblings’ (Kathy, Mike, Patty, Greg, Meg, Beth, Tootie and Tere) were, and continue being a fun-loving group to be around. In the early days of our marriage, they were a moveable feast”.

(Over the Hill: Dedalus Log, 2008)
 

Vacation, leave, liberty, recreation, rest and relaxation (R & R), holiday; these are words to describe “a fixed period of holidays, especially one during which a school, court, or business suspends activities. It is the act or an instance of vacating”. It has been over 30 years since I’ve had a summer vacation in the truest sense; in the way students think of one. An extended period of time in which there are “no more pencils, no more books, and no more teachers’ dirty looks.” Those long ago, wistful summers were the best of times: staying up late, watching TV past 10 o’clock, sleeping in, playing street games until dark, reading trashy novels, walking to the playground to play caroms, or biking to the beach to lay in the sun. Those were the endless days of childhood summer, when my brothers, sisters, and I lost track of time and obligations, and only worried about how to answer our recurring, daily question – “What do you want to do today?” Every day we decided on a new adventure or distraction, from breaking into a deserted house up the street or playing marathon games of Monopoly, to weaving countless key lanyards from plastic strips.

Recapturing some aspects of those blissful times was one of the reasons Kathy and I considered going into teaching, and staying in education. A summer hiatus away from students, teachers, and lessons was rejuvenating and invigorating. After a summer vacation, Kathy and I would attack the new school year with renewed vim and vigor. Even the eventual necessity of part-time work during the two month break didn’t diminish the glamour of summer. There was still plenty of time for pool parties at Yarmouth Ave, reading science fiction novels, and spending a week at the beach house of Kathy’s parents. Unfortunately, job demands began encroaching on these idyllic summers about 13 years ago. This corresponded with the State’s decision to increase instructional days and expand the school year to the end of June, which required principals to report to work in August. These additional days created a two week overlap with my 6 week summer school duties and the start of my regular assignment, so that I found myself working 2 weeks for free, with no time off. Summer vacation as a reality disappeared completely when I was assigned to MASH Middle School, a year-round school.

For the last three years, the spring semester would end on June 30^th, for A and B Track students and teachers, and then a new “fall” semester would resume for B and C Track students and teachers on July 1^st. It was a treadmill existence; a school that never stopped operating. A year-round school is a metaphor for hell to principals and assistant principals who work there; they are schools with no exit. The only oasis of tranquility, in this otherwise barren chronology, was a two week break we took at a rented beach house in Ventura (see Ventura Highway). That has been my island of serenity for the last three years – until this July. On June 30, 2008, the school year at MASH Middle School came to a close, and it stayed closed for the summer. School will not reopen until September 3, when students and teachers return for the first day of class, at a newly constituted, traditional-calendar, school.

 
As happens when a rubber band snaps back after having been stretched to its extreme limits for a long time, returning to my original state of rest and normalcy took awhile. I endured three sleepless nights and drowsy mornings until I started to feel relaxed and comfortable. Luckily, my first weekend on vacation (the Fourth of July weekend) was filled with diversions and visits by Tonito, Prisa, and their fiancées. It wasn’t until my first Monday in bed that it hit me – I didn’t have to go to work today, tomorrow, or the next day. In fact, I would have no contact with the school or District officials until August. I had nothing to do for two weeks except keep myself occupied, watch Kathy leave each morning, and make preparations for our annual escape to Ventura for a two week holiday. Kathy was still working, completing her summer school business, so I was totally alone and on my own. My first sensation was panic, and I started making lists of things to do. Yet somehow, the idea of “lists” struck me as anathema to a proper approach to my first real summer vacation - certainly my youthful approach (I didn’t discover “To Do Lists” until I married and became organized.). The closest I came to itemizing my plans was mentioning some of my summer longings in my Morning Journal. I wanted to read more, do some writing, get together with my brothers and sisters, and be spontaneous. The latter was the most intriguing – but so elusive as to be chimerical. How do you practice spontaneity when you have lots of time, but nothing to do? You can’t get into the car and drive around looking for it. Spontaneous occurrences are opportunities that present themselves in the course of an ordinary day; the trick is to recognize them and seize them (carpe diem). Just as I was shaking my head at this whimsical notion of being spontaneous during the summer, I recalled an invitation I had previously dismissed as too distant, too troublesome, and too farfetched. I’d received an email from Tere, Kathy’s youngest sister, informing me of a series of diving finals in which her two daughters were competing. At first I was pleased to be on Tere’s family email grouping, but I hadn’t really considered attending, figuring that I would be too busy doing something, or preferring to do nothing, rather than driving to USC and watching a junior diving meet. Now I realized that spontaneity doesn’t happen in a vacuum, one needs people and action to be spontaneous. Here was an opportunity staring me in the face, waiting to be grasped. The more I thought about it, the more serendipitous it became. The next day I sent Tere a responding email asking for directions, adding that I was planning to attend.

Actually, Tere’s email wasn’t all that unusual; it was simply another example of the ingrained custom in Kathy’s family of informing (inviting) relatives and friends of upcoming family occasions and events. Since becoming part of Kathy’s large family, I’ve observed this practice over 30 years. My earliest memories are of Debbie (the second child) letting us know when her children, Jeff and Christy (and eventually Alicia) were swimming (both), performing (Jeff), or playing sports (Christy). Kathy’s brothers and sisters always managed to drop by, and if enough of them came together, an impromptu party might ensue at Debbie’s home. In those days, Debbie was the preeminent hostess of spontaneous family parties. In the years that followed, with successive marriages and more and more nieces and nephews, the family calendar of events was always full. Kathy has always been a strong advocate and supporter of this practice, even though now with adult children (and as we edge closer and closer to retirement) our own family doesn’t generate as many “invite-able” activities or events as in past years. However, she always makes an effort to attend, and encourages her sisters and brothers to always announce such activities. This custom is difficult to explain, because it has no succinct title or definition. Giri misses the mark. Kathy and her brothers and sisters (and their husbands, wives, and children) do not attend these events out of a sense of duty or obligation, but rather, I think, because of a desire to share in a possibly unique experience and be present for someone other than themselves. The obligation is to inform and publicize the family event; the response must come from a personal desire to go, without it being a burden. This dynamic was best illustrated for me in 1998, when Prisa was a senior in high school, playing in a CIF playoff game in basketball.

After four years on the varsity team, Prisa had a great senior year in basketball. Her coaches blended two experienced veterans and co-captains (Prisa and Kari) with a crop of very talented freshman, into a formidable team. The team had jumped out to a surprising string of early tournament victories, stayed competitive during conference play, and, with a 15 – 6 record, was now making a determined run for a playoff title. The playoffs were single game eliminations. Louisville won its first 2 games, and was advancing to play St. Paul in the third round. Kathy put out the informative with the clear understanding that the game was inconveniently scheduled on a Saturday night and in the geographically challenging city of Santa Fe Springs. The game site was simply too far away to be practical for general family attendance. Even Kathy wouldn’t be there, because the date conflicted with an obligatory conference in Anaheim; but she put out the informative anyway, believing that the prayers, thoughts, and best wishes of family members would help Prisa and the team. On the night of the game I was there with a small band of loyal supporters, and Prisa was in a zone. She was building up for a monster game, leading the Louisville offense at just the right time. As the first half was winding to a close (with Prisa scoring 5 points), I caught sight of a familiar figure entering the gym. I couldn’t believe it, hundreds of miles from home, on a cold and rainy February night, Greg, Kathy’s youngest brother (see Giri: Family Taboos). was sauntering into the scantily filled arena, watching the action and scanning the bleachers. I was stunned; but I was also elated, because I was no longer alone to witness this critical game. After giving him a heartfelt abrazo and back-pounding, I asked him why he had traveled all the way from Santa Barbara on this stormy night just to see a basketball game. He looked at me curiously and said that it wasn’t JUST a basketball game, it was a playoff game, and it might be Prisa’s last. He added that he had played varsity basketball in high school and knew the significance of playoffs. He was glad Kathy had informed him, and he was happy to be here. As these words were sinking in, I looked up to see that Kathy had somehow materialized to join us as well. She confessed that she couldn’t stay away; so she sneaked away from a session. Kathy had skipped dinner and driven here, figuring that she could get back before anyone missed her. Together, the three of us watched Prisa have the game of her career, scoring a season high 19 points (14 in the second half, and 7 in the last quarter). With St. Paul up 55 – 52 and less than a minute to play, Louisville called a time out to set up the last play. Prisa took the last shot from the 3-point line at the buzzer - and missed (she was actually fouled, but no referee would have dared to called it). It was the most exciting game of the year, and although we were disappointed with the score, we weren’t unhappy with the outcome. Prisa and the team had stepped up and delivered a great game, and we couldn’t be prouder of her leadership or performance – and Greg was there to share it.

Greg’s unexpected presence that evening had a profound impact on me. Not only did his cheering, commentary and insights enhance the evening for me, but I saw it as a selfless act of sharing in an important family moment. He didn’t have to be there; there was no burden or obligation to come. He claimed to have done it out of enlightened self-interest (“I love playoff games”), but its affect on me (and I believe Prisa) was different. We felt connected, because he took the time and effort to share an important (and emotional) event with us. Since that occasion, I have also tried to “pay forward” Greg’s act by showing up at some family events. I think it is a dynamic that maintains and energizes the family. When family members respond to these in formatives by showing up, it reinforces the practice for the people who dared to announce and publicize it, and they in turn feel appreciative and compelled to show up when others repeat the process. It is a wonderful cycle of love; showing up to share in a family experience.

I had never been to the McDonald’s Olympic Swim Stadium at USC, and normally, as a die-hard UCLA alumni and sports fan, I would have no reason to go. But on July 10, I was there to watch and cheer for Maggie, Tere and Mike’s 13 year old daughter, as she competed in the 2008 USA Junior Zone E Diving Championships. She, and her sister Anora, had been diving now for some years at the Rose Bowl Aquatic Center. Occasionally Kathy and Prisa would go, but I had never seen them dive. The only diving meet I had ever attended was Marisa’s competition against Cal last spring (see All American Girl). I really didn’t know what to expect, or the quality of competition at these junior meets, but I was determined to enjoy myself. The meet would give me a great opportunity to experiment with my new camera, and I was curious to see who else might show up. I did not expect Tere’s incredulity at my arrival. Despite my emailed RSVP, Tere couldn’t believe that I actually showed up. “I can’t believe you came!” she kept repeating, shaking her head. Followed with the refrain, “You didn’t have to come”. In the face of this bewilderment, I just smiled and said, “I wanted to come. I’m on vacation and I couldn’t think of a better place to be on a beautiful, summer morning. Plus, I’ve never seen Maggie or Anora dive”.

 

Tere is the youngest of Kathy’s siblings, and her two girls are the youngest of 26 grandchildren. I don’t often get the chance to see her in the role of mom, juggling multiple tasks while smiling, charmingly: interacting with other diving mothers; dodging their worried requests to meet her husband, a counselor at a prominent Jesuit high school; reassuring Maggie that she will do fine in the meet; and assigning increasingly more complex duties to Anora, so she wouldn’t get bored on her off day. When she was free, she filled me in on the present meet and the diving background of the girls. This was the zone qualifying round, and the top 6 finishers in each category would advance to the Nationals in Houston, Texas. Maggie had just aged up into the senior division, but still had a good chance at qualifying. Nora, she said, was on fire, and barring some unforeseen catastrophe, was expected to advance easily. Tere was finishing her summary when Prisa showed up to join us. About 5 minutes later, Meg smiling and waving, swept onto the pool deck to complete the family cheering section that was present for Maggie. The morning went by quickly, with the older divers moving rapidly through their sequence of nine dives. Maggie started out strongly and confidently, and then held on to finish in the top 6. I got a little carried away with the ease of my camera and took tons of pictures (Maggie thinking, Maggie taking a breath, Maggie advancing to the apex of the board, Maggie leaping…..). It struck me later, when Prisa and I were exploring the USC bookstore after the meet, that I would have to return the following day to photograph Anora as well. Equality of familial attention is a vital concern among pre-teen sisters, and I suspected that Anora had been watching me during the morning, and she was keeping score.

Anora was a different person on the day of her competition. While she had been listless, distracted, and slightly bored on Thursday, she was totally focused on Friday. She was diving in a popular age group, with many, many divers. When Tere caught me frowning at the number of competitors, and the huge number of adults in the bleachers, she told me not to worry. There would be less dives (6), she explained, and the organizers would move the events quickly. She was right.

 

The rest of the family boosters arrived just as the meet got underway. Prisa returned to join me for another round, and Christy arrived with her two girls, Taylor and Maya. She (as usual) looked fabulous! Except for the big family events (Christmas and weddings), I don’t see her very often, so today was a treat. Christy was a superb athlete in her youth, playing club soccer for many years, swimming and playing basketball in high school, and playing water polo in college. In many ways she modeled the behaviors that her uncles and aunts pointed out and described to their own daughters as they grew up; a good balance of athletics and learning, with a clear focus on practicing the skills and lessons taught in sports and academics to ensure successful performances in games and classrooms. These were habits that Prisa followed in high school and college, and I could see it in more and more girls in this family. It was a tradition that stretched in a long feminine line from Christy, to Alicia, to Prisa, to Brigid, to Caitrin, to Marisa, to Maria, to Brenna, to Maggie, and finally to Anora. Except for Mary Ellen’s girls, who did not have this Southern California exposure to all-year sports, these cousins’ shared remarkable abilities and similarities.

As Tere predicted, the meet moved swiftly. Anora was seeded second in the diving order and she systematically dominated each dive. She was quick, efficient, and machine-like in her preparation, concentration, and performance technique. I don’t remember seeing her smile until the competition was over. I took the opportunity of the long wait for the announcements of the times and places of each of the 30 divers to photograph Tere, her daughters, her nieces, and grand-nieces. I hoped they would see the inter-connections that bound them all together on this sunny morning. I knew that these events, so time consuming and bothersome in many ways, would slowly disappear as the girls went into high school and college. Eventually they would end all together. Tere and Christy were still a long time away from that place, but I knew it would arrive sooner than expected. I wondered if Anora and Maggie would remember these days and the people who came to share them. Would they also feel the need to “pay it forward”? I was glad I was able to be present to share one of those occasions.