A Walk Up Memory Lane

We drove up Chapman Parkway this past Friday for the first time in many, many years. It’s the private drive that leads onto the campus of The Stony Brook School on Long Island. And as we did the memories began to flood in.




I attended The Stony Brook School, a college preparatory boarding school, for high school. My family lived in the Middle East and school for westerners was not available past 9th grade. So all students in our community headed off to boarding school in 10th grade. My older sister researched, visited and compared schools very carefully, and chose Stony Brook. I just simply followed behind a year later. The first few weeks of living away from home were a bit overwhelming. I was 15, away from home and in a foreign land. Our parents were in Arabia, and our extended family was in Texas and Oklahoma. I didn’t even know Long Island existed until my sister chose Stony Brook. I felt claustrophobic with all the trees around. I freaked when my mom made me try on a turtleneck and told her I probably would never wear it. I had never even heard of a bagel.

But within the daily packed schedule of academics, sports, work-jobs, daily chapel, daily room inspections, required meals, formal, family-style dinners every night something changed. Stony Brook quickly became home. So the day our class graduated 25 years ago, there were many tears among friends. Tears because we had done all we could at Stony Brook and it was time to move on. We were leaving home.

So this weekend as we drove up Chapman Parkway for homecoming weekend, the memories began to flow.

Like why it is a drive “up” Chapman Parkway. Any student who has had to run sprints with a coach at Stony Brook knows it’s uphill. It’s not a steep hill, but when you’re running sprints, it’s steep enough. Like singing the school hymn during the alumni memorial service. I had forgotten there was a school hymn – but once it started could sing it by memory. Seeing the “sign-out” book in our old dorm and remembering we had to sign out in the evenings and on weekends. Having an old friend call us at dinner and ask us to save her a seat. I suddenly remembered that laying a fork across the empty plate was the thing to do.

But it was the familiar faces that brought most of the memories. As I saw those faces walking along the paths of campus, it was like we had never left.

Faces of friends as well as faculty. Sure, we have all lived 25 years of life apart. But after a brief “catch up” it didn’t matter. Being together is what mattered. And that’s just what we did for the weekend.

It was like old times.

And we were at home.

Our baby girl








is 18 years old today.








Where have the years gone?

Actually I have a pretty good idea. Because it doesn't really seem like yesterday when she looked like this...






There's been a lot of water under the bridge and we've done a lot of life.


Like sports, dance, choir, music, school (public and home), and on and on. We've made some big moves over the years and done a little world travel. We've had some crazy-fun memories and some just-plain-crazy memories, and we've navigated some of the rough waters of life.


And now she's an adult. She'll be able to cash her own checks, vote and give consent for information. She'll be "legally" responsible for herself. And yet, she'll still probably order kids' meals at restaurants when she can. (Just try and guess what we're having for her birthday dinner...)



And really, we couldn't be prouder. Not because she's perfect (She's not). Not because she's at the top of her class (she's not) or because she's got it all figured out (she doesn't).

But because she's Chelsea. She's fun, full of compassion and she loves life. She's honest and faithful. She has integrity. She's real. What you see is what you get.



HAPPY 18th BIRTHDAY, CHELSEA

Yes, I'm a dork...

...because I take a picture of my kids on the first day of the new school year. Every year.

This week I was being all sentimental (have I mentioned we have a SENIOR this year?) and I pulled out the old photos of each of our kids’ first day of kindergarten.

Where do the years go?

So for your viewing pleasure...

Here's Jack on his first day of "reception" in the UK. they start at age 4:

And here he is today - a 4th grader. Actually, in the UK he would be in year 5, starting middle school. At the age of 9. Crazy, huh?

This is August 1999 - Sam's uniform tie lasted one day...

and now a sophomore (translated from latin: wise fool?)

August 1997 - i kinda miss the uniform days.

And who thought 2010 would come so quickly?

I was wondering earlier this week if this would be our last "first day of school" picture for Chelsea. Then my friend, Kris, showed a photo on her phone yesterday. Her daughter, a freshman, far away at college, sent a her mom picture of herself on the first day of classes. So there's hope... :-)

Water-colored Ponies...

Many moons ago, before we had kids, there was a musician named Wayne Watson who sang a song about water-colored ponies. The lyrics speak of how overwhelming it is to parent little ones, that our vision becomes so narrow and we forget to enjoy every moment. Then one day, the water-colored ponies (or whatever the unrecognizable artwork is on your refrigerator door) ride away.

Our first water-colored pony is getting ready to ride away. She’ll be a SENIOR in high school on Tuesday. (I know, they consider themselves seniors as soon as they finish their exams junior year. But whatever.)

In a recent conversation I was asked what brings me to my knees to pray, and my answer was my kids. Parenting has been one of those awesome responsibilities that is overwhelming sometimes. Okay, a lot of times. My prayer has always been for my kids’ hearts and minds to be protected, and for them to grow in wisdom so that we can send them into the world as individuals who love God and love people. And for them to grow into the unique creations that they are.

So I’m on my knees again. And we’re preparing to embrace this senior year with all the lasts and firsts that it may bring.

Here is Chelsea in kindergarten August 1997 - uniform and all.

What's funny is that her new back pack for kindergarten is purple. Shortly after,she abandoned purple as a favorite color. But this year was new backpack year in our house -and she chose a purple backpack!

Here's her senior yearook portrait.

The "real" senior photo shoot is tomorrow!

Anticipation...

When you hear or read the word anticipation what do you think?

The first thing I think of is the ketchup commercial back in the ‘70’s. I think it was Heinz. But after that, I think about the excitement in waiting for something. Like when friends or family are coming for a visit. Especially if you haven’t seen them in a long while.

There is some anticipation going on in our house tonight. Tomorrow some dear friends from Bromsgrove, England will be arriving. We can’t wait!

Ken and Val (aka Uncle Ken and Auntie Val) are some of the very first people we met when Dave and I first visited Bromsgrove in early 2002. In fact, we stayed with them. And they were at the airport to greet our family when we arrived to live there in October 2002. And that whole week they were with us almost every day helping us shop, bank, visit schools, etc.

Uncle Ken and Auntie Val were there when we moved houses and when we celebrated birthdays; they worked alongside us, they babysat for us and they were there when we were struggling, too.

Jack always knew that he would have a stash of toys to play with at their house, not to mention a stash of Cadbury Fingers. Really, they spoiled our children rotten. Like grandparents. Whenever we saw them, no matter how often, it was hugs all around for everyone.

We haven’t seen them in almost 4 years. So, needless to say, we are anticipating their arrival tomorrow evening! And we are hoping our ears can still decipher their Welsh and Brummy (Birmingham) accents. ;-)

there's something about sam

August is a big month for Sam. So I thought I'd blog about him.

Sam. He's our second-born. Our first son. Our middle child. We named him Samuel and called him that until he was 3 weeks old.

At three weeks we took him into the ER on a Sunday afternoon. We thought about waiting and calling the doctor Monday morning, but something got the better of us and I called the doc on Sunday afternoon - she recommended we head to Children's Hospital. So we did. And they said it's a good thing we did. Monday morning may have been too late.

That week in Children's Hospital we started calling him Sammy. Over the years Sam has had lots of nicknames: Bubba; Sambo; Sam the man; Sam I am.
And many words have been associated with Sam - or at least his intense interests: trains, dinosaurs, astronomy, legos, bionicles, math, science, ancient languages, philosophy, theology. The list grows as he does.

And there's always been something about Sam. Eventually the professionals informed us that the "something" is Asperger's, or high functioning autism.
But to us he is simply Sam. He's smart. He's clever. He sees, hears and smells things that we don't. He thinks outside the box. The way his brain works baffles and amazes us.

More importantly, he's kind, sensitive and has a huge heart.

And he's growing up. We know this because of all that he is accomplishing - like this month.

Friday Sam got his first pair of contact lenses.

Saturday Sam earned his blue belt in Hapkido.

Today Sam finished the classroom portion of driver's ed.

In 7 days Sam will get his braces off.

Soon after he will drive with an instructor and then get his permit.

Oh yeah, and he'll be a sophomore in high school!

It's date night...

There is a long-standing tradition in our home. Probably the longest standing tradition. Except for chocolate gravy, of course. Each child gets to go on a date with dad on or around their birthday.

They pick the location. But they can't go on their date until the previous birthday child has had their date. (You see, sometimes we let life get in the way and we get behind...)

We got this idea from my childhood, when my dad did the same thing. Now, I don't remember how many years he did it. But I do remember my choice was usually putt-putt golf and Long John Silver's Seafood Shoppe (can you hear the little jingle?) Meanwhile my sister chose expensive restuarants. I think my dad had more fun on my dates. :-)

From the time we started (probably about 13 or 14 years ago) Dave has faithfully taken each of our kids out to their place of choice. And over the years, when we visit fun places, we hear our kids say "I want this to be my next birthday date."

Tonight is different. It's a birthday date. But not for one of the kids. It was Chelsea's birthday gift to Dave.

A date with Dad. That's right - a 17 year-old is taking her Dad out on a date.

Oh, and for those of you wondering. No it's not anywhere near Dave's birthday. That's in December. Once again, life has gotten in the way.

Here is one of Chelsea and Daddy's first brithday dates. Can you tell where it is?

Here is last years's date. Can you tell where this is?

Chelsea turns 18 in September - I wonder what she'll choose for her birthday date.

Oh - and for Mother's Day Chelsea gave me a date to get a manicure or pedicure together. The last manicure I had was in 1992. Really. Which should I do - mani or pedi?