So much to write, so little time...
The snaars wife: I don't often write about her, but snaars fans should know that she is central and indispensable to the phenomenon.
Seriously, Michelle has borne the brunt of the family's troubles of the last two years or so. We are healing from the disaster that ensued after our move north, and Michelle has had to do the most. In an unfamiliar house, far from anyplace we had ever called home, we found she was pregnant with our third child. Rejected by the family she had so long wanted to be reunited with, we faced another move and the premature burden of being on our own before I had stable employment.
Regular visits with my parents kept us sane. We made the 2.5 hour trip at least once a month (usually twice) for a long time. My parents also loaned us a LOT of money. I think they felt partially responsible, because before the move their encouragement allayed any doubts we had felt.
Michelle had it worse than I did in a lot of ways, coming to grips with the reality of the dynamics of her family (past and present), and doing the bulk of the parenting work: getting the kids into school, enduring a third pregnancy and a difficult home labor and birth, then taking care of an infant on top of everything else - all in a place where we had very little money, or support from anyone.
During the first months in the apartment and throughout the pregnancy I suffered from panic attacks. I went to work every day knowing I wasn't making enough money. I came home wanting to do something else to make money and feeling helpless. Michelle and I both felt tired, but we couldn't sleep.
Despite all this, Michelle continued to volunteer many hours per week to the Childbirth and Postpartum Professionals Association, as their public relations coordinator and director of state representatives. I think she had clung to the position as something over which she could have some control during a time when everything else seemed out of control.
Meanwhile, because of our obligations as parents to our first two lovely daughters, we couldn't slow down or focus on our own needs as much as we should have done.
I have had five jobs in the past two years, with bouts of unemployment in-between. This last job has been going very well. I have had steady employment for five months now, and although our expenses still outweigh our income, the discrepancy is minimal; we've been making stead progress and I expect the trend to continue. Soon, we will be restoring our savings. I expect we'll be buying a house within six months or a year.
I have been working with some wonderful people. They have been impressed with me and my work. I did not get this job through the staffing agency, but through an aquaintance I made while working for the agency. Within a week of getting the job, I was offered another job at a different company. Not only was I able to negotiate better benefits from my employer because of it - I actually managed to go back to the company that had given me the second offer, and I set up a complementary schedule with them, so that I was able to work both jobs.
The second job has since evaporated, but it was good for the several months it lasted. I am on good terms with the owner of the business.
After working with my current employer for three months, they gave me a considerable raise. And today - just this morning - they brought me into a meeting to discuss sending me back to school to take accounting and/or IT courses. They advised me that the combination of accounting and IT has considerable earning potential. They are willing to reimburse me 100% for tuition and expenses.
The only requirement is that I make at least a B in whatever courses I want to take. (I didn't feel it necessary to bring to their attention that I aced almost all my courses at UL - I think they know I'm capable.)
Sometimes it's good to be the snaars!
Simcha turns six this week! She wants a Care Bear more than anything. (I'm just glad she's over the Bratz doll obsession of the last few months!)
I'll write more about the kids soon - I know that's what all the real snaars fans ache for - but for now, it's past my bedtime.
Showing posts with label family life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family life. Show all posts
Friday, October 19, 2007
Monday, September 17, 2007
Snaars Times
Here's a brief update for my online friends. Sorry I haven't been in touch the last few months. I've been working two jobs. When I am home I spend a lot of time with the snaars spouse and snaars kids.
It's hard to believe Saadia turned one year old last month - but it's true. Simcha is in kindergarten and Havilah is in the second grade. They are, each of them, fantastic kids. Every day there's something I want to write about. They provide me with enough material that I could write a full-length post every day, if I had the time and energy.
Yesterday Havilah told me she loves science, but she doesn't like math, and she wants to be a figure skater when she grows up. Lately, her favorite game to play as a family has been "20 questions."
Today I watched from our apartment balcony as Simcha nervously crossed the street all by herself on her way to the neighborhood playground. While Simcha participates in "20 questions," she much prefers "I spy with my little eye," which is basically the same, only easier.
Saadia has a glowing personality, and is working hard at breaking in tooth number eight and tooth number nine. While I was comfortably seated on the balcony watching Havilah and Simcha in the playground across the street, Saadia discovered the unique and satisfying sound an orange makes when it is dropped from the third story to the concrete below.
I would like to draw your attention to the new scarlet letter "A" in the sidebar. This is the official symbol of Richard Dawkins's atheist OUT Campaign. Since I came out as an atheist about two years ago, and because this very website was instrumental in that regard, I felt it was appropriate to add the A here.
This blog's address has been added to the OUT Campaign's blogroll, but it took some doing. Initially, the OUT Campaign's site administrator thought that my site had been hacked by Christians! I thought: "Oh my, that administrator didn't take much time to read it, did he?" I supposed that my spiritualized theme had caused confusion! In fact, there was a typo in my submission. The administrator was looking at snaars.blogpot.com. (Blogpot, you see?)
Anyway, it's all fixed now. I plan to peruse some of the other sites on the blogroll, maybe make some more friends.
Perhaps I'll provide some details on my employment situation next time.
It's hard to believe Saadia turned one year old last month - but it's true. Simcha is in kindergarten and Havilah is in the second grade. They are, each of them, fantastic kids. Every day there's something I want to write about. They provide me with enough material that I could write a full-length post every day, if I had the time and energy.
Yesterday Havilah told me she loves science, but she doesn't like math, and she wants to be a figure skater when she grows up. Lately, her favorite game to play as a family has been "20 questions."
Today I watched from our apartment balcony as Simcha nervously crossed the street all by herself on her way to the neighborhood playground. While Simcha participates in "20 questions," she much prefers "I spy with my little eye," which is basically the same, only easier.
Saadia has a glowing personality, and is working hard at breaking in tooth number eight and tooth number nine. While I was comfortably seated on the balcony watching Havilah and Simcha in the playground across the street, Saadia discovered the unique and satisfying sound an orange makes when it is dropped from the third story to the concrete below.
I would like to draw your attention to the new scarlet letter "A" in the sidebar. This is the official symbol of Richard Dawkins's atheist OUT Campaign. Since I came out as an atheist about two years ago, and because this very website was instrumental in that regard, I felt it was appropriate to add the A here.
This blog's address has been added to the OUT Campaign's blogroll, but it took some doing. Initially, the OUT Campaign's site administrator thought that my site had been hacked by Christians! I thought: "Oh my, that administrator didn't take much time to read it, did he?" I supposed that my spiritualized theme had caused confusion! In fact, there was a typo in my submission. The administrator was looking at snaars.blogpot.com. (Blogpot, you see?)
Anyway, it's all fixed now. I plan to peruse some of the other sites on the blogroll, maybe make some more friends.
Perhaps I'll provide some details on my employment situation next time.
Monday, July 23, 2007
Day at the Beach
In fulfillment of my promise to the girls to take them to see the Atlantic Ocean before the end of the summer, we spent the day at Cape Henlopen on Sunday. We forgot to take the camera, but I was sort of glad because the salt air and sand could have ruined it.
The weather couldn't have been better, but the public showers were COLD (brr!)
The weather couldn't have been better, but the public showers were COLD (brr!)
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
The Pennsylvania Hospital
Philadelphia has an amazing history, and bits of it sort of lurk around every corner, waiting to leap out at you.
Today we visited the Pennsylvania Hospital in Philadelphia. Pennsylvania Hospital was the nation's first hospital, founded in 1751 by Benjamin Franklin and Dr. Thomas Bond 'to care for the sick-poor and insane who were wandering the streets of Philadelphia." At that time, the city was the fastest-growing in the thirteen colonies. Lying on the Delaware River, it bustled with international sea trade and immigration. Whereas the nation was established as a melting pot, city leaders of the day ironically noted that Philadelphia was a "melting pot for diseases, where Europeans, Africans, and Indians engaged in free exchange of their respective infections."
The majority of patients that presented themselves at the Hospital in its earliest years were diagnosed as "Lunaticks" (sic). The eighteenth century heralded increased control of the insane through confinement and growing confidence in science's ability to understand and cure insanity through more aggressive medical treatment. Here we can see the tranquilizer chair, designed to slow down the fluid movement of agitated patients.
Christ Healing the Sick in the Temple
Painted by Benjamin West
West was a Philadelphia native and the historical painter for King George III, and eventual president of the Royal Academy of Arts in London. The hospital's Board of Managers asked West to create the painting and donate it to the hospital, in 1800. West agreed and chose his subject to be "the redeemer of all mankind extending his aid to the afflicted of all ranks and condition."
The painting took 11 years to complete, and caused such a stir in England that West was pressured to sell it to the National Gallery for 3000 Guineas. West assured the Board of Managers that he would creat a second, better painting, and he did. In the second painting he added a "demoniac with his attendant relations" to pay homage to Pennsylvania Hospital's treatment of the mentally ill. It was delivered in 1817.
The surgeons who first used this room were considered skilled craftsmen. Surgeries were performed on sunny days only, between 11:00 am and 2:00 pm, because the skylight was the main source of illumination - there was no electricity at the time. Locals and medical students could pay a fee to watch surgical procedures, which included amputations, removal of internal and external tumors, bladder stones and cataracts; repair of hernias, and the setting of fractures.
Anesthesia was not used until the 1840's, at first only on women because of their supposed low tolerance for pain. Prior to anesthesia, sugeons would administer prodigious amounts of alcohol, or opium, or a swift blow to the head with a mallet to render the patient unconscious - and, hopefully, not dead.
I would have elected for the use of all three methods.
Sterile technique was not in use in the country before 1890. Surgeons washed their hands - after the procedure. They wore coats, to protect their clothing. The surgical coats were left on hooks in the ampitheatre and were not washed for years at a time.
Pictures and text in this posting have been borrowed from The Pennsylvania Hospital Walking Tour guidebook and from The University of Pennsylvania Health System's History of Pennsylvania Hospital's web site.
Today we visited the Pennsylvania Hospital in Philadelphia. Pennsylvania Hospital was the nation's first hospital, founded in 1751 by Benjamin Franklin and Dr. Thomas Bond 'to care for the sick-poor and insane who were wandering the streets of Philadelphia." At that time, the city was the fastest-growing in the thirteen colonies. Lying on the Delaware River, it bustled with international sea trade and immigration. Whereas the nation was established as a melting pot, city leaders of the day ironically noted that Philadelphia was a "melting pot for diseases, where Europeans, Africans, and Indians engaged in free exchange of their respective infections."
The majority of patients that presented themselves at the Hospital in its earliest years were diagnosed as "Lunaticks" (sic). The eighteenth century heralded increased control of the insane through confinement and growing confidence in science's ability to understand and cure insanity through more aggressive medical treatment. Here we can see the tranquilizer chair, designed to slow down the fluid movement of agitated patients.
Christ Healing the Sick in the TemplePainted by Benjamin West
West was a Philadelphia native and the historical painter for King George III, and eventual president of the Royal Academy of Arts in London. The hospital's Board of Managers asked West to create the painting and donate it to the hospital, in 1800. West agreed and chose his subject to be "the redeemer of all mankind extending his aid to the afflicted of all ranks and condition."
The painting took 11 years to complete, and caused such a stir in England that West was pressured to sell it to the National Gallery for 3000 Guineas. West assured the Board of Managers that he would creat a second, better painting, and he did. In the second painting he added a "demoniac with his attendant relations" to pay homage to Pennsylvania Hospital's treatment of the mentally ill. It was delivered in 1817.
It is said that this was the first piece of fine art available to be seen by the general population in colonial America. After 12 months, an admission fee of 1 penny was charged to look at it. Over the next 25 years, the fees paid for the picture house and added $15,000 to the hospital's funds. For another penny, one was allowed to watch the insane people as they took their daily exercise in the yard.
The Great Court
The center section of the Hospital was designed as a buffer between two wings, to shield the physically ill people from the disturbing cries of the insane. Here were housed the officers and servants. The first floor was the administrative center (it is still usedfor that purpose today); also an apothecary and medical library, both the first in the nation. The Great Court was restored in 1976 for the nation's bicentennial using traditional colonial colors.
The Nation's First Surgical Ampitheatre
or
"The Dreaded Circular Room"
The surgeons who first used this room were considered skilled craftsmen. Surgeries were performed on sunny days only, between 11:00 am and 2:00 pm, because the skylight was the main source of illumination - there was no electricity at the time. Locals and medical students could pay a fee to watch surgical procedures, which included amputations, removal of internal and external tumors, bladder stones and cataracts; repair of hernias, and the setting of fractures.
Anesthesia was not used until the 1840's, at first only on women because of their supposed low tolerance for pain. Prior to anesthesia, sugeons would administer prodigious amounts of alcohol, or opium, or a swift blow to the head with a mallet to render the patient unconscious - and, hopefully, not dead.
I would have elected for the use of all three methods.
Sterile technique was not in use in the country before 1890. Surgeons washed their hands - after the procedure. They wore coats, to protect their clothing. The surgical coats were left on hooks in the ampitheatre and were not washed for years at a time.
Pictures and text in this posting have been borrowed from The Pennsylvania Hospital Walking Tour guidebook and from The University of Pennsylvania Health System's History of Pennsylvania Hospital's web site.
Monday, December 11, 2006
(Gulp!)
Raising my third infant, I've earned the title of experienced, professional diaper-changer. I'm inured to the smell. I can tolerate the painful sonic barrage of shrieking that sometimes accompanies baby's efforts. I can operate efficiently around wriggling legs with minimal smearage. But I still encounter the unexpected.
Yesterday I spotted a booger - a tiny dry flake (or so it appeared), right at the edge of her nostril. Ready to dislodge itself with a breath or snort, it would dive into anonymous obscurity on carpet or clothes, to be vacuumed or laundered to eventual oblivion. I spied it when I laid her down, and my eye was drawn repeatedly toward it whilst I wiped, coo'ed, and exchanged smiles with Saadia. Usually, I don't waste my time with these bits of dirt.
Usually I say, yet on this day I took the corner of my burp cloth and attacked the offending particle with zealous relish. I don't know why I did it - a moment of enthusiasm, perhaps infused with a tinge of guilt (having seen Michelle clean the nose of many a baby for less - she has been always the more fastidious in regards to the hygeine of our diminutive charges).
I swiped. I swiped again. The flake remained astonishingly steadfast. Saadia smiled agape at the new game. I gathered myself. I have seen Michelle be quite forceful, so: more gusto ... push up with the corner of the cloth, a bit of wrist action, and then ...
Oh my! I had seen merely the tip of the iceburg. Here was a veritable glob, now on the upper lip! No matter, one more quick dab.
Huh. Where'd it go? It's not on the cloth. Oh ... Saadia is beaming up at her daddy. Adoringly. Open-mouthed.
Please. Don't tell Michelle. She'll kill me.
Look at her, so innocent and trusting.
Updated with photos 12/18/06.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Fire in the subdivision
There was a fire in the apartment building across the street. I took these pictures from the bedroom window and the balcony. These are the first trucks to arrive. 
Firefighters really are heros. What more can I say? You'd never catch me on the roof of a burning building. Maybe with training and a new back .... Anyway, I'm really thankful to these folks.
Another ladder truck. This one was longer. I wonder from how far away it came? I wasn't watching the clock, but I want to say it's been about 45 minutes since the first trucks arrived on the scene.
More and more trucks arrive. Gawkers gather in scattered groups from a safe distance, although you can't see them in any of these pics.
By the time the fire's out, I count seventeen emergency vehicles, including at least seven fire trucks.
It's good to be alive, and to have a warm, safe place to spend the night.
12/6/06 update:
The blaze was apparently caused by a second-floor tenant who set fire to some newspapers in the hallway. His reasons for so doing are unknown.
There were no injuries and no fire damage to the apartments on that floor, however the firefighters broke a bedroom window and something (?) on the roof to gain access.
Firefighters really are heros. What more can I say? You'd never catch me on the roof of a burning building. Maybe with training and a new back .... Anyway, I'm really thankful to these folks.
Another ladder truck. This one was longer. I wonder from how far away it came? I wasn't watching the clock, but I want to say it's been about 45 minutes since the first trucks arrived on the scene.
More and more trucks arrive. Gawkers gather in scattered groups from a safe distance, although you can't see them in any of these pics.
By the time the fire's out, I count seventeen emergency vehicles, including at least seven fire trucks.
It's good to be alive, and to have a warm, safe place to spend the night.
12/6/06 update:
The blaze was apparently caused by a second-floor tenant who set fire to some newspapers in the hallway. His reasons for so doing are unknown.
There were no injuries and no fire damage to the apartments on that floor, however the firefighters broke a bedroom window and something (?) on the roof to gain access.
Saturday, December 02, 2006
Retrospective, Prospective
I went back through the ol' archives last night. I'm happy with the quality of my writing generally; I just wish I could turn out a bit more of it! The first few months saw a fair amount of output. The past year has been sporadic, with a few good posts out there nonetheless.
Can't believe the blog has been around two years!
I don't know if I've written of it in this space previously, but my dad used to tell me: "Son, if you don't ever want to worry about making a lot of money, just major in English or Philosophy." Incidentally, his bachelor's degree is in English.
Interestingly, I predicted my current career situation during my very first month of blogging ("Amateur," January 28, 2005). Lately I've come to realize there's an element of self-fulfillment involved in that prophecy. I'll just say, I've learned a lot about myself the last year. There's been plenty of genuine hardship to boot, so I can't take upon myself all the blame. There was just no way of predicting some of the things that happened.
When I learned about the features available in the new blogger beta, I chose to convert to a private blog. When it all started, I freely and cheerfully distributed the address among my friends and family. I was secretly disappointed in the lack of response. Now I believe it quite probably that my in-laws have read it and will continue to read it. They have proven to be quite vindictive and I have no desire to have contact with them. I don't think they deserve to know anything about my family; and yet I find I do not wish to deprive myself of an outlet.
I toyed with the idea of changing the URL of the blog, but an internet search for my daughters' unusual names would undoubtedly unearth it. The only other option would be deletion, and I'm unwilling.
Here's to my new and lucrative career (whatever it might turn out to be), and to a time when I can once again publish in public, and to good blogging in the coming year!
Can't believe the blog has been around two years!
I don't know if I've written of it in this space previously, but my dad used to tell me: "Son, if you don't ever want to worry about making a lot of money, just major in English or Philosophy." Incidentally, his bachelor's degree is in English.
Interestingly, I predicted my current career situation during my very first month of blogging ("Amateur," January 28, 2005). Lately I've come to realize there's an element of self-fulfillment involved in that prophecy. I'll just say, I've learned a lot about myself the last year. There's been plenty of genuine hardship to boot, so I can't take upon myself all the blame. There was just no way of predicting some of the things that happened.
When I learned about the features available in the new blogger beta, I chose to convert to a private blog. When it all started, I freely and cheerfully distributed the address among my friends and family. I was secretly disappointed in the lack of response. Now I believe it quite probably that my in-laws have read it and will continue to read it. They have proven to be quite vindictive and I have no desire to have contact with them. I don't think they deserve to know anything about my family; and yet I find I do not wish to deprive myself of an outlet.
I toyed with the idea of changing the URL of the blog, but an internet search for my daughters' unusual names would undoubtedly unearth it. The only other option would be deletion, and I'm unwilling.
Here's to my new and lucrative career (whatever it might turn out to be), and to a time when I can once again publish in public, and to good blogging in the coming year!
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Simcha turns five!
Tomorrow is Simcha’s fifth birthday! We celebrated this evening with a special birthday dinner, presents, and ice cream cake. It all started this afternoon. We spent the morning cleaning and vacuuming, then I fired up the internet radio with some kind of techno lounge music with a good beat. Then I called Simcha into the living room and did a silly dance. Then I sang. I improvised. It went something like this: “Go Sim-cha! It’s your birth-day! Go Sim-cha! It’s your birthday! We love you! We adore you! It’s your birth-day! Be hap-py!” She was delighted and we all laughed out loud for a long time while we acted silly.
Among her presents were several rubber bath duckies. It may seem strange, but she has always had a fascination for them. Michelle found some that light up with little dancing disco lights when they are touched or placed in the water. Simcha also received a firefighter duckie that changes color with the water temperature. She also got a Sleeping Beauty doll.
Saadia is already two-and-a-half months old. She is extraordinarily happy. She is alert, loves to ‘talk’, and hardly cries at all.
Whereas Havilah and Simcha both slept in a bassinette when they were her age, Saadia sleeps in our bed because we are short on space in this little apartment. I sleep lightly because I help feed her at night and because her favorite pastime is making cooing noises and kicking me in the back all night long.
Havilah is doing great in the 1st grade. I read to her, and Simcha too, every night, and Havilah is making great strides in her reading.
We are still not making enough money, although we have done everything we can think of to cut expenses, short of trading in our car for something smaller that would have a lower monthly payment. Michelle has an appointment tomorrow to sign up for WIC and food stamps. That should help a lot. We are a couple of months behind now on some of our bills. We are getting closer though, and I still have confidence that eventually we will be all right. My credit rating may get shot to hell, but at least we are not in immediate danger of being out on the street.
Reflecting on the past few years, I am astounded (appalled?) at everything this family has been through. My sense of self-worth has been nearly non-existent these past few months, but I believe I am rebounding. I am steadily becoming more comfortable with being an atheist in a world that is downright hostile toward atheism. I no longer feel a need to announce it, to explain or justify it. I don’t feel a need to denounce religion. I have learned that it’s unsafe to say much about it to anyone.
I don’t discuss my beliefs unless I am asked. Even my father, who is an educated and compassionate man, can not sit still and discuss it with me in a calm manner. Most of our discussions on the topic have been initiated by his attacks on philosophy, as a discipline. These usually take me by surprise and must admit I resent them. I sympathize with my father and I have no desire to challenge him or deprive him – or anyone else – of something that gives them a sense of meaning and comfort.
The last time, he asked me if I knew that I was a philosophical “throwback”. I don’t have any clear idea in what way he meant by it. He made a definite point that logic doesn’t produce any ideas in and of itself, and that it can be most misleading. He seemed to be questioning the usefulness of reasoning at all. I was, quite frankly, dumbfounded and I couldn’t understand his point at all. I just agreed with him that logic is not creative and that the conclusions of logic depend on the quality of the information, evidence, and assumptions that are being worked with. I thought it was just a really strange conversation to have with my dad, since I have always considered him to be smarter than I am. It’s taken me a long time to get over my competitiveness with him, and now every once in a while he wants to get competitive with me.
I haven’t been very good company for a long time now because of our financial difficulties and the depression that has come along with them. I think my dad has misdiagnosed that depression and thinks that it is related to my atheism. I think that theists imagine how they would feel if they didn’t have a belief in God to give their lives meaning, and then they project those feelings on atheists and assume that atheists are just a miserable lot.
Anyway, that’s all for the moment. This posting has been a long time coming and it may be another long wait for the next. I will read and appreciate all comments, but I may not be able to respond in a timely manner (and I may not have internet access – that was actually turned off for a while and it may be turned off again later this month)!
In the meantime, best wishes to all!
Among her presents were several rubber bath duckies. It may seem strange, but she has always had a fascination for them. Michelle found some that light up with little dancing disco lights when they are touched or placed in the water. Simcha also received a firefighter duckie that changes color with the water temperature. She also got a Sleeping Beauty doll.
Saadia is already two-and-a-half months old. She is extraordinarily happy. She is alert, loves to ‘talk’, and hardly cries at all.
Whereas Havilah and Simcha both slept in a bassinette when they were her age, Saadia sleeps in our bed because we are short on space in this little apartment. I sleep lightly because I help feed her at night and because her favorite pastime is making cooing noises and kicking me in the back all night long.Havilah is doing great in the 1st grade. I read to her, and Simcha too, every night, and Havilah is making great strides in her reading.
We are still not making enough money, although we have done everything we can think of to cut expenses, short of trading in our car for something smaller that would have a lower monthly payment. Michelle has an appointment tomorrow to sign up for WIC and food stamps. That should help a lot. We are a couple of months behind now on some of our bills. We are getting closer though, and I still have confidence that eventually we will be all right. My credit rating may get shot to hell, but at least we are not in immediate danger of being out on the street.
Reflecting on the past few years, I am astounded (appalled?) at everything this family has been through. My sense of self-worth has been nearly non-existent these past few months, but I believe I am rebounding. I am steadily becoming more comfortable with being an atheist in a world that is downright hostile toward atheism. I no longer feel a need to announce it, to explain or justify it. I don’t feel a need to denounce religion. I have learned that it’s unsafe to say much about it to anyone.
I don’t discuss my beliefs unless I am asked. Even my father, who is an educated and compassionate man, can not sit still and discuss it with me in a calm manner. Most of our discussions on the topic have been initiated by his attacks on philosophy, as a discipline. These usually take me by surprise and must admit I resent them. I sympathize with my father and I have no desire to challenge him or deprive him – or anyone else – of something that gives them a sense of meaning and comfort.
The last time, he asked me if I knew that I was a philosophical “throwback”. I don’t have any clear idea in what way he meant by it. He made a definite point that logic doesn’t produce any ideas in and of itself, and that it can be most misleading. He seemed to be questioning the usefulness of reasoning at all. I was, quite frankly, dumbfounded and I couldn’t understand his point at all. I just agreed with him that logic is not creative and that the conclusions of logic depend on the quality of the information, evidence, and assumptions that are being worked with. I thought it was just a really strange conversation to have with my dad, since I have always considered him to be smarter than I am. It’s taken me a long time to get over my competitiveness with him, and now every once in a while he wants to get competitive with me.
I haven’t been very good company for a long time now because of our financial difficulties and the depression that has come along with them. I think my dad has misdiagnosed that depression and thinks that it is related to my atheism. I think that theists imagine how they would feel if they didn’t have a belief in God to give their lives meaning, and then they project those feelings on atheists and assume that atheists are just a miserable lot.
Anyway, that’s all for the moment. This posting has been a long time coming and it may be another long wait for the next. I will read and appreciate all comments, but I may not be able to respond in a timely manner (and I may not have internet access – that was actually turned off for a while and it may be turned off again later this month)!
In the meantime, best wishes to all!
Monday, August 14, 2006
Kids of the Week
I noted that all my three girls were born on Tuesday mornings, and Juggling Mother said, "All mine were born on a Sunday ...." It put me in mind of an old nursery rhyme:
Monday's child is fair of face,
Tuesday's child is full of grace,
Wednesday's child is full of woe,
Thursday's child has far to go;
Friday's child is loving and giving,
Saturday's child works hard for its living;
But the child that is born on the Sabbath day
Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay.
There you go, Juggling Mother! Your kids are the best of the lot!
I must have been born on a Saturday.
Monday's child is fair of face,
Tuesday's child is full of grace,
Wednesday's child is full of woe,
Thursday's child has far to go;
Friday's child is loving and giving,
Saturday's child works hard for its living;
But the child that is born on the Sabbath day
Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay.
There you go, Juggling Mother! Your kids are the best of the lot!
I must have been born on a Saturday.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Saadia pictures
This is the most beautiful baby I've ever seen!! Not that I'm biased, or anything ...
When presented with a baby photo, it is obligatory to say, "Aaaaw, how cute!" But you can tell the truth this time: she's an angel!
Now for some revised/additional information.
In my last post, I said that Saadia was not overdue after all, but I may have judged hastily. Saadia's weight, the condition of her skin, and the constitution of the amniotic fluid indicate that she was healthy and of average gestational age - approximately 40 weeks; however, the original date calculations and ultrasound estimate put her due-date at July 14th and 16th, respectively.
Calcifications in the placenta indicate that it may have been over-aged. A battledore insertion of the umbilical cord could possibly account for Saadia's birth weight, which would be considered lower than expected if she really gestated for 43 weeks and 3 days. (A battledore insertion is when the cord is attached marginally, at the edge of the placenta, rather than in the middle as is normal. It's usually not serious but it can slow the growth of the fetus.)
We had a successful home birth, attended by two registered nurse midwives and a midwife-in-training. Those ladies were terrific! They provided medical care and expertise to Michelle and Saadia through pre-natal visits. They offered advise and suggestions while respecting our informed decisions. They provided medical expertise and assistance during the labor and birth. They set up supplies and equipment, and stood by in case of any problems. They worked hard to make our goals a reality! They cleaned up afterward and monitored Michelle and Saadia for several hours after the birth. They also follow up post-natally, checking the health of both mom and baby. I can not say enough about how pleased and assured I felt, knowing that they were working to provide a safe and pleasant birth experience for us. Don't even contemplate having a home birth unassisted! I am grateful for the job they did.
Havilah and Simcha were with my parents during the labor and birth. They met their baby sister yesterday, and they adore her! Michelle will be in recovery for an indefinite period of time, so I am trying to train them to help out more. I am taking on more chores around the house.
Today I got home from a full day's work, took the girls grocery shopping, returned home and put the groceries away, cooked dinner, washed the dishes, got the girls ready for bed, read them a story, did two loads of laundry, got caught up with my e-mail, and wrote this blog post! Now it's after midnight, and I'll have to do everything again starting tomorrow at 6:30! Well, except for the grocery shopping - but there's still a lot of laundry to do.
I did a lot - but Michelle is dealing with more than I am. She needs rest after all her hard work. Saadia nurses every two hours - around the clock - sometimes for twenty or thirty minutes at a time. Michelle is getting less sleep than I am, and she needs it more than I do.
Did I forget anything? Oh, yeah - I quit the car business last week. More about my new job later.
When presented with a baby photo, it is obligatory to say, "Aaaaw, how cute!" But you can tell the truth this time: she's an angel!
Now for some revised/additional information.
In my last post, I said that Saadia was not overdue after all, but I may have judged hastily. Saadia's weight, the condition of her skin, and the constitution of the amniotic fluid indicate that she was healthy and of average gestational age - approximately 40 weeks; however, the original date calculations and ultrasound estimate put her due-date at July 14th and 16th, respectively.
Calcifications in the placenta indicate that it may have been over-aged. A battledore insertion of the umbilical cord could possibly account for Saadia's birth weight, which would be considered lower than expected if she really gestated for 43 weeks and 3 days. (A battledore insertion is when the cord is attached marginally, at the edge of the placenta, rather than in the middle as is normal. It's usually not serious but it can slow the growth of the fetus.)
We had a successful home birth, attended by two registered nurse midwives and a midwife-in-training. Those ladies were terrific! They provided medical care and expertise to Michelle and Saadia through pre-natal visits. They offered advise and suggestions while respecting our informed decisions. They provided medical expertise and assistance during the labor and birth. They set up supplies and equipment, and stood by in case of any problems. They worked hard to make our goals a reality! They cleaned up afterward and monitored Michelle and Saadia for several hours after the birth. They also follow up post-natally, checking the health of both mom and baby. I can not say enough about how pleased and assured I felt, knowing that they were working to provide a safe and pleasant birth experience for us. Don't even contemplate having a home birth unassisted! I am grateful for the job they did.
Havilah and Simcha were with my parents during the labor and birth. They met their baby sister yesterday, and they adore her! Michelle will be in recovery for an indefinite period of time, so I am trying to train them to help out more. I am taking on more chores around the house.
Today I got home from a full day's work, took the girls grocery shopping, returned home and put the groceries away, cooked dinner, washed the dishes, got the girls ready for bed, read them a story, did two loads of laundry, got caught up with my e-mail, and wrote this blog post! Now it's after midnight, and I'll have to do everything again starting tomorrow at 6:30! Well, except for the grocery shopping - but there's still a lot of laundry to do.
I did a lot - but Michelle is dealing with more than I am. She needs rest after all her hard work. Saadia nurses every two hours - around the clock - sometimes for twenty or thirty minutes at a time. Michelle is getting less sleep than I am, and she needs it more than I do.
Did I forget anything? Oh, yeah - I quit the car business last week. More about my new job later.
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Saadia Kathleen ...
... was born today at 1:23 AM. On a Tuesday morning, just as her sisters were.
She is perfect in every way. She only weighs seven pounds, zero ounces - so she is not three weeks overdue, as we thought. Rather, she is a week early. Go figure!
We are wiped out. More details to come. And pictures.
She is perfect in every way. She only weighs seven pounds, zero ounces - so she is not three weeks overdue, as we thought. Rather, she is a week early. Go figure!
We are wiped out. More details to come. And pictures.
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
False Alarm
Here’s the short version of the story, nerve-wracking as it is: Michelle’s labor stalled out yesterday afternoon.
I was surprised even though I should not have been. We have a history of prodromal labor, long labor, and long terms. Simcha was in the womb for 43 weeks. Although she had complications, none of them were associated with the long pregnancy. She had none of the symptoms that doctors worry about with a long pregnancy.
Saadia is still moving a lot, which means she is not too big and that the placenta is still healthy. Her heart rate is good. She seems perfectly fine.
Michelle is also fine, apart from some edema (swelling) around her ankles - but that’s not dangerous, by itself. It means she has to keep her feet up as much as possible when she is not walking. We have to watch to make sure the swelling does not rise or spread up her legs. If it does, it could be a signal that something is wrong.
After my parents came to get the kids yesterday, I thought it would speed things up, but it didn’t. Ah well, the real thing will happen soon. If it doesn’t happen over the next few days we will review our options, in terms of induction.
Havilah and Simcha will have to stay with my parents for a few days because of everyone’s schedules. Michelle and I will be able to spend some quality time together.
I’ll post again when something happens.
I was surprised even though I should not have been. We have a history of prodromal labor, long labor, and long terms. Simcha was in the womb for 43 weeks. Although she had complications, none of them were associated with the long pregnancy. She had none of the symptoms that doctors worry about with a long pregnancy.
Saadia is still moving a lot, which means she is not too big and that the placenta is still healthy. Her heart rate is good. She seems perfectly fine.
Michelle is also fine, apart from some edema (swelling) around her ankles - but that’s not dangerous, by itself. It means she has to keep her feet up as much as possible when she is not walking. We have to watch to make sure the swelling does not rise or spread up her legs. If it does, it could be a signal that something is wrong.
After my parents came to get the kids yesterday, I thought it would speed things up, but it didn’t. Ah well, the real thing will happen soon. If it doesn’t happen over the next few days we will review our options, in terms of induction.
Havilah and Simcha will have to stay with my parents for a few days because of everyone’s schedules. Michelle and I will be able to spend some quality time together.
I’ll post again when something happens.
Monday, July 24, 2006
Happy birthday and happy birthday, maybe?
Michelle started her labor last night. If this labor is like the previous ones, she may still have a loooong way to go.
I learned a new term: prodromal labor. Sometimes referred to as "false" labor, there is nothing false about the way prodromal labor feels to the mother! It differs from active labor only in the respect that it does not progress continuously and without a break to the birth of the baby.
In all of her pregnancies, Michelle has experienced cramping and other labor symptoms months early, with increasing frequency and duration toward the end of each pregnancy.
Michelle had contractions most of the day yesterday. Last night they were frequent: between 1.5 and 2.5 minutes apart, lasting 30 to 60 seconds, over a period of several hours. Some were intense, requiring all her attention, while most of them were "mild," in the sense that she could get through them fairly easily by pausing and breathing carefully for a few seconds at the high point.
Michelle slept fitfully and woke up tired. I stayed at home today and took care of her and the girls. Havilah and Simcha understand that all this means the baby is coming soon. They got excited when our midwife came to visit.
All the girls' excitement was not good in terms of labor progression. They kept demanding attention from Michelle and from me. Although we don't mind giving them attention, it takes Michelle's focus away, adds tension, and inhibits labor progression. I called my parents, they came and got the girls and will keep them for a couple of days.
I didn't feel at all emotional, until I put them in the car and kissed them goodbye.
Michelle is more rested now, and seems ready, but her labor has slacked off again. I believe Saadia will be born tomorrow morning, but I hope she will be born tonight. That way, she and Michelle will share the same birthday!
I learned a new term: prodromal labor. Sometimes referred to as "false" labor, there is nothing false about the way prodromal labor feels to the mother! It differs from active labor only in the respect that it does not progress continuously and without a break to the birth of the baby.
In all of her pregnancies, Michelle has experienced cramping and other labor symptoms months early, with increasing frequency and duration toward the end of each pregnancy.
Michelle had contractions most of the day yesterday. Last night they were frequent: between 1.5 and 2.5 minutes apart, lasting 30 to 60 seconds, over a period of several hours. Some were intense, requiring all her attention, while most of them were "mild," in the sense that she could get through them fairly easily by pausing and breathing carefully for a few seconds at the high point.
Michelle slept fitfully and woke up tired. I stayed at home today and took care of her and the girls. Havilah and Simcha understand that all this means the baby is coming soon. They got excited when our midwife came to visit.
All the girls' excitement was not good in terms of labor progression. They kept demanding attention from Michelle and from me. Although we don't mind giving them attention, it takes Michelle's focus away, adds tension, and inhibits labor progression. I called my parents, they came and got the girls and will keep them for a couple of days.
I didn't feel at all emotional, until I put them in the car and kissed them goodbye.
Michelle is more rested now, and seems ready, but her labor has slacked off again. I believe Saadia will be born tomorrow morning, but I hope she will be born tonight. That way, she and Michelle will share the same birthday!
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Are you on your way to your first million?
Q asked: Are you on your way to your first million?
I was on the way to earning my first million around twenty years ago when I got my first paper route. At this rate, I'll be a millionare by the year 2186.
I sold my first car Friday night. I sold my second today (Tuesday).
I am working an average of eleven hours a day, six days a week. I am starting to hit my stride. In another month my training salary will be gone and I have to rely 100% on commissions. If all goes well, I will stop working my second job at that time.
I don't know how much money I made on today's sale. I wouldn't have made the sale without the finance manager's help. I'm not sure the finance manager likes me. He let the car go at $500 over invoice, and I don't think he had to do that. I probably won't make much on the sale. On the other hand, I don't know how much we made on the back end (on the financing).
I'm not complaining. I'm not very good yet, and I may have to live with small commissions, until I am good enough to close the sales entirely on my own.
This job is forcing me to be more firm and assertive. I'm amazed at what goes on. I am learning that the management I work for is (95%) honest and open in the way they conduct their business. Surprisingly, the customers are the ones who are dishonest. They feel they need to hide things in order to protect themselves.
I don't blame them. At the recent tent sale there were salespeople from five or six other dealerships there, and some of them were shady characters. The thing is, customers can protect themselves and still be honest, if they are a little bit creative, and it would save us all some time. Then again, most people are at a disadvantage because they don't buy cars very often, whereas the salespeople sell them on a daily basis.
I've become less tolerant of nonsense, both when I'm at work and in my private dealings. My time is becoming more precious to me. That said, I have to go now - no more time for blogging!
I was on the way to earning my first million around twenty years ago when I got my first paper route. At this rate, I'll be a millionare by the year 2186.
I sold my first car Friday night. I sold my second today (Tuesday).
I am working an average of eleven hours a day, six days a week. I am starting to hit my stride. In another month my training salary will be gone and I have to rely 100% on commissions. If all goes well, I will stop working my second job at that time.
I don't know how much money I made on today's sale. I wouldn't have made the sale without the finance manager's help. I'm not sure the finance manager likes me. He let the car go at $500 over invoice, and I don't think he had to do that. I probably won't make much on the sale. On the other hand, I don't know how much we made on the back end (on the financing).
I'm not complaining. I'm not very good yet, and I may have to live with small commissions, until I am good enough to close the sales entirely on my own.
This job is forcing me to be more firm and assertive. I'm amazed at what goes on. I am learning that the management I work for is (95%) honest and open in the way they conduct their business. Surprisingly, the customers are the ones who are dishonest. They feel they need to hide things in order to protect themselves.
I don't blame them. At the recent tent sale there were salespeople from five or six other dealerships there, and some of them were shady characters. The thing is, customers can protect themselves and still be honest, if they are a little bit creative, and it would save us all some time. Then again, most people are at a disadvantage because they don't buy cars very often, whereas the salespeople sell them on a daily basis.
I've become less tolerant of nonsense, both when I'm at work and in my private dealings. My time is becoming more precious to me. That said, I have to go now - no more time for blogging!
Thursday, May 25, 2006
5% dixie?
| Your Linguistic Profile:: |
| 60% General American English |
| 30% Yankee |
| 5% Dixie |
| 0% Midwestern |
| 0% Upper Midwestern |
Where did that come from?
Monday, May 22, 2006
ultrasound
Long story short - I'm enthusiastic, but tired because of a long day. Lots and lots of driving. We had an ultrasound and saw the baby for the first time today. I'm proud to report no problems - as far as we can tell, baby and mommy are healthy.
In the picture below, baby is seen flexing a bicep. Strong baby!
The cross-hairs are between baby's fingers in the picture below. Victory! Peace out, hippie home-birth baby!
What do you call a wish-granting magic spirit from a country shaped like a boot? It's a jinn Italia! And that sounds like what is pictured below.
It's a girl! Hi there, Saadia! We love you!
In the picture below, baby is seen flexing a bicep. Strong baby!
The cross-hairs are between baby's fingers in the picture below. Victory! Peace out, hippie home-birth baby!
What do you call a wish-granting magic spirit from a country shaped like a boot? It's a jinn Italia! And that sounds like what is pictured below.
It's a girl! Hi there, Saadia! We love you!
Saturday, May 13, 2006
I will remember you
After Michelle and I broke up - and before we got back together - this song reminded me of her. After we were married, I told her about it. She said that it had always reminded her of me. So, it is one of 'our' songs.
I Will Remember You*
I will be walking one day
Down a street far away
And see a face in the crowd and smile
Knowing how you made me laugh
Hearing sweet echoes of you from the past
I will remember you.
Look in my eyes while you’re near
Tell me what’s happening here
See that I don’t want to say good-bye
Our love is frozen in time
I’ll be your champion and you’ll be mine
I will remember
I will remember you.
Later on
When this fire is an ember
Later on
When the night’s not so tender
Given time
Though it’s hard to remember darlin’
I will be holding
I’ll still be holding to you
I will remember you.
So many years come and gone
And yet the memory is strong
One word we never could learn
Good-bye
True love is frozen in time
I’ll be your champion and you’ll be mine
I will remember you
So please remember
I will remember you
I will remember you
I will remember you
I will remember you.
*Amy Grant/Gary Chapman/Keith Thomas
Copyright © 1991 age to age music, inc./riverstone music, inc./edward grant, inc./yellow elephant music, inc. (ascap), adm. by reunion music group, inc.
I Will Remember You*
I will be walking one day
Down a street far away
And see a face in the crowd and smile
Knowing how you made me laugh
Hearing sweet echoes of you from the past
I will remember you.
Look in my eyes while you’re near
Tell me what’s happening here
See that I don’t want to say good-bye
Our love is frozen in time
I’ll be your champion and you’ll be mine
I will remember
I will remember you.
Later on
When this fire is an ember
Later on
When the night’s not so tender
Given time
Though it’s hard to remember darlin’
I will be holding
I’ll still be holding to you
I will remember you.
So many years come and gone
And yet the memory is strong
One word we never could learn
Good-bye
True love is frozen in time
I’ll be your champion and you’ll be mine
I will remember you
So please remember
I will remember you
I will remember you
I will remember you
I will remember you.
*Amy Grant/Gary Chapman/Keith Thomas
Copyright © 1991 age to age music, inc./riverstone music, inc./edward grant, inc./yellow elephant music, inc. (ascap), adm. by reunion music group, inc.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
love, pizza, grief, and personal identity
Love is not one single emotion. When I say "I love pizza," I'm not saying the same thing as when I say "I love my Michelle."
How does one begin to describe a thing that means so much?
I once had a conversation with a fellow philosophy student - David, in fact. A recurring theme of our philosophic discussions has been the problem of personal identity. The issue is a complex one. In some sense, everyone who reads this today is "the same" person as when they were born. And yet, adults are not the same as children - there are many differences - so we're not the same as when we were born. How can we be - today - the same as when we were born, yet not the same as when we were born? For that matter, how can we be the same and yet not the same person as we were yesterday?
There are several very good explanations of this, and of other problems of personal identity - but I haven't read one that was entirely satisfactory.
At any rate, I expressed the opinion to David that any theory of personal identity ought to account for feelings of grief. At the time, he thought it quite odd that I should say this. "But," I said, "how can you explain that a person feels like a part of themselves has been taken away when a loved one dies? Isn't it likely that a feeling of drastic change within one's self - subjective though that feeling might be - doesn't it give us some insight into what personal identity is?"
Anyone who has personally felt, or heard vividly described, the sense of personal loss and emptiness that accompanies the death of a loved one, will appreciate what I mean. It seems reasonable that a theory of personal identity should be able to "handle" such feelings - someone's sense that they have become different, in general; and the sense of having become different as a result of losing a loved one, specifically.
We know that certain functions and capabilities of the brain - preprocessing, perception, memory, the ability to reason, motor control - are somewhat independant, being centered in distinct areas. Perhaps what we experience as consciousness is, in part, the communication that takes place between these structures within the brain.
It could be analogous to a conversation that takes place between semi-distinct yet interdependant parts. In a mentally healthy individual, it may be more like a ballet, wherein all the parts have learned to perform in coordination and with alacrity. In contrast, one who experiences cognitive dissonance may be depressed or unusually tired mentally.
So, what causes this feeling of personal change when we lose a loved one?
When we love someone deeply, we feel a kind of familiarity. We depend on that other person to provide input much like we depend on the various cognitive structures that make up our own selves. When we lose that, realizing that we won't be getting it back, we get a sense of emptiness. All the dancers can carry out their moves in concert - but the presentation is lacking, and some aspects are impossible, because a dancer is missing.
Michelle is capable of seeing things I cannot see. She understands things that I don't understand - until she explains them to me. Things that need to be done, she does when I don't have time, or the necessary inclination or imagination. She is capable of interacting with some people on a level I cannot reach.
Michelle can hold me - I can't hold myself! She can laugh at my jokes - I can't laugh at them myself! (Well, I can sometimes, but it's not nearly the same.) We made a family together - certainly couldn't have done that by myself!
Here's to you, my Michelle. You are actually my better half.
How does one begin to describe a thing that means so much?
I once had a conversation with a fellow philosophy student - David, in fact. A recurring theme of our philosophic discussions has been the problem of personal identity. The issue is a complex one. In some sense, everyone who reads this today is "the same" person as when they were born. And yet, adults are not the same as children - there are many differences - so we're not the same as when we were born. How can we be - today - the same as when we were born, yet not the same as when we were born? For that matter, how can we be the same and yet not the same person as we were yesterday?
There are several very good explanations of this, and of other problems of personal identity - but I haven't read one that was entirely satisfactory.
At any rate, I expressed the opinion to David that any theory of personal identity ought to account for feelings of grief. At the time, he thought it quite odd that I should say this. "But," I said, "how can you explain that a person feels like a part of themselves has been taken away when a loved one dies? Isn't it likely that a feeling of drastic change within one's self - subjective though that feeling might be - doesn't it give us some insight into what personal identity is?"
Anyone who has personally felt, or heard vividly described, the sense of personal loss and emptiness that accompanies the death of a loved one, will appreciate what I mean. It seems reasonable that a theory of personal identity should be able to "handle" such feelings - someone's sense that they have become different, in general; and the sense of having become different as a result of losing a loved one, specifically.
We know that certain functions and capabilities of the brain - preprocessing, perception, memory, the ability to reason, motor control - are somewhat independant, being centered in distinct areas. Perhaps what we experience as consciousness is, in part, the communication that takes place between these structures within the brain.
It could be analogous to a conversation that takes place between semi-distinct yet interdependant parts. In a mentally healthy individual, it may be more like a ballet, wherein all the parts have learned to perform in coordination and with alacrity. In contrast, one who experiences cognitive dissonance may be depressed or unusually tired mentally.
So, what causes this feeling of personal change when we lose a loved one?
When we love someone deeply, we feel a kind of familiarity. We depend on that other person to provide input much like we depend on the various cognitive structures that make up our own selves. When we lose that, realizing that we won't be getting it back, we get a sense of emptiness. All the dancers can carry out their moves in concert - but the presentation is lacking, and some aspects are impossible, because a dancer is missing.
Michelle is capable of seeing things I cannot see. She understands things that I don't understand - until she explains them to me. Things that need to be done, she does when I don't have time, or the necessary inclination or imagination. She is capable of interacting with some people on a level I cannot reach.
Michelle can hold me - I can't hold myself! She can laugh at my jokes - I can't laugh at them myself! (Well, I can sometimes, but it's not nearly the same.) We made a family together - certainly couldn't have done that by myself!
Here's to you, my Michelle. You are actually my better half.
Monday, April 17, 2006
pride and the game of kings
Shortly after Michelle and I got married, I tried to teach her to play chess. It was a frustrating and short-lived endeavor. We were both highly competetive. Being an intermediate player, I had a strong advantage, and it was tough for Michelle to remain enthusiastic about a game she couldn't win. Moreover, there always seemed to be some activity or other that would take precedence. (We were newlyweds - need I say more?)
I bought Michelle an electronic chess set, thinking that she might be more likely to overcome that beginner's learning curve if she didn't have to endure the humiliation of losing to a human foe. The gift was well-meant - but alas! - it remained in the box untouched, until I wanted a real chess challenge one day and played a few games on it myself.
That was eight or nine years ago. Since then, we have spent our time on ... other hobbies. Like having three kids. (In case anyone gets the wrong impression of Michelle, I will tell you this: we are quite well-matched when it comes to other games, like Scrabble and Trivial Pursuit.)
Now my oldest child is playing chess. She was four when she first spied my book-sized folding set - a gift from my dad when I was thirteen or fourteen. She was thoroughly fascinated when I introduced her to the different pieces and some of the basic rules. The two of us lacked the patience for any in-depth learning to take place - our games consisted mostly of make-pretend, and using the pieces as little dolls. The seeds had been planted, though.
A few months ago, while we were living with my in-laws, Havilah's cousin Kathleen taught Havilah some more, and Havilah was receptive. She learned much about how the pieces move.
Since then, we have been playing, more and more. Havilah now knows how all the pieces move, how they capture other pieces, and some rudimentary defense strategy. She knows what "check" means, and she will sit and contemplate different ways of getting out of check. She enjoys it so much she asks me to play every night now.
Now, here's the climax of the story, the real funny part - have you guessed it? That's right, Havilah has been pressing Mommy to play chess with her. Recently, she has begun teaching Michelle how the pieces move. This evening, my heart warmed to see an historic battle take place on the floor of my living room. Did I mention that Havilah is six years old?
And - significantly - Simcha set up the pieces.
I bought Michelle an electronic chess set, thinking that she might be more likely to overcome that beginner's learning curve if she didn't have to endure the humiliation of losing to a human foe. The gift was well-meant - but alas! - it remained in the box untouched, until I wanted a real chess challenge one day and played a few games on it myself.
That was eight or nine years ago. Since then, we have spent our time on ... other hobbies. Like having three kids. (In case anyone gets the wrong impression of Michelle, I will tell you this: we are quite well-matched when it comes to other games, like Scrabble and Trivial Pursuit.)
Now my oldest child is playing chess. She was four when she first spied my book-sized folding set - a gift from my dad when I was thirteen or fourteen. She was thoroughly fascinated when I introduced her to the different pieces and some of the basic rules. The two of us lacked the patience for any in-depth learning to take place - our games consisted mostly of make-pretend, and using the pieces as little dolls. The seeds had been planted, though.
A few months ago, while we were living with my in-laws, Havilah's cousin Kathleen taught Havilah some more, and Havilah was receptive. She learned much about how the pieces move.
Since then, we have been playing, more and more. Havilah now knows how all the pieces move, how they capture other pieces, and some rudimentary defense strategy. She knows what "check" means, and she will sit and contemplate different ways of getting out of check. She enjoys it so much she asks me to play every night now.
Now, here's the climax of the story, the real funny part - have you guessed it? That's right, Havilah has been pressing Mommy to play chess with her. Recently, she has begun teaching Michelle how the pieces move. This evening, my heart warmed to see an historic battle take place on the floor of my living room. Did I mention that Havilah is six years old?
And - significantly - Simcha set up the pieces.
Monday, April 10, 2006
no career for you today. back to the end of the line!
Just in case you all were wondering, The Teach for America thing didn't work out for me.
Had I gone to the interview, I have no doubt whatsoever that they would have found a teaching position for me. The more I learned about what the commitment entailed, I felt it wasn't the right decision for me or my family.
I'm having a real problem choosing a direction. One thing I will not do is settle for something that is just "okay".
I just hope I can find the right opportunity soon.
P. S. For the philosophically inclined and/or curious out there, take a look at an exploration of numerical and personal identity issues, Arglor-style. (In patented Streem-O-Conscious!)
Had I gone to the interview, I have no doubt whatsoever that they would have found a teaching position for me. The more I learned about what the commitment entailed, I felt it wasn't the right decision for me or my family.
I'm having a real problem choosing a direction. One thing I will not do is settle for something that is just "okay".
I just hope I can find the right opportunity soon.
P. S. For the philosophically inclined and/or curious out there, take a look at an exploration of numerical and personal identity issues, Arglor-style. (In patented Streem-O-Conscious!)
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