Happy Birthday Darlin'

I can't believe it has been a whole year that we've spent with Caroline Grace - she is really coming into her personality and loves playing with her big brother. My how our baby's grown!

Caroline turned one on Thursday, and she did pretty good with the cupcake we gave her to celebrate. Although to be honest, I think she enjoyed the ice cream a bit more. It is a lot of fun to see how much she communicates, and laughs, and expresses her pleasure or dissatisfaction with a particular experience. She is getting a laugh that lights up the whole family. Jack in particular has enjoyed being able to have a playmate, and we are enjoying the newfound independence of her increased mobility. She's not walking yet, but she's durn close.

This little girl - who used to be an expressionless King Tut beyond compare - is now a sweet, coy, flirting little gem. It is kind of amazing - her smiles just come out of nowhere, and are better for all the surprise.

The People You Meet

Stopping for lunch at Lexington Barbecue #1 is never a bad idea – their consistent, well-smoked and flavorful pork and homemade sauce are the pride of Davidson County. Top it off with a sweet tea and the kind of fries you just can’t get at a fast food joint, and you’ve got a meal for kings.

But this Friday in particular was an excellent day to stop at the Honeymonk. Flying solo and with a crowd already waiting for a table, I asked an older gentleman sipping coffee if I could grab the bar stool next to him. We struck up a conversation – turns out he is an insider, related in some way to the Monk family, and was sitting around waiting on his grandson and wife to have a baby (his fourth great-grandchild out of 13 grandchildren). He was hoping he could grab Wayne and head over to the hospital. When he found out I was down from Greensboro, he was interested to get my opinion of Stamey’s brand of ‘cue since Mr. Stamey had passed away, and how it compared to Lexington’s. I was way over my head at this point and clearly dealing with an expert, but I played along cheerfully since he couldn’t hear half of what I said.

At some point I told him I was originally from Spartanburg, to which he replied “Well that’s a damn hell hole.” Apparently he did basic training at Camp Croft in 1944/45, before shipping over to Okinawa for overseas duty. Soldiers at that time were restricted on weekend liberty to a 50 mile radius of Spartanburg, but as he and a friend couldn’t find any decent ‘cue they used to sneak up to Lexingotn ever other weekend to sate their appetite. We had a good little chat about our common experience on Okinawa – he was amazed how about much Naha had changed in the last 60 years. One of the luxuries I apparently missed out on was trans-Pacific troopship cruising, something he did not recommend. On the 23 day trip over to Oki, he found a lifeboat on deck under which to sleep and keep his seabag, because of the heat and the stench of the berthing quarters below decks.

On his trip back to the states in ’46, a general officer on board earned an upgraded ship which made the northern trip in to San Fran in 18 days with much improved accommodations. In Oakland he and two friends ran in to a boy from southern Virginia, “the only Southern boy with a dollar to his name.” Twenty dollars, to be exact, which got the four of them a cab ride across the bay and admission to a then-famous strip club. The sparkle in his eye led me to believe that was one of the highlights of his military service, but by the way he stared when he talked about the “boys” he met and knew and served alongside, it was not the only worthwhile experience.

I could have sat there talking to Sam Everhart for hours, but he had a great-granddaughter to go see and I had to get back to work. Flat out made my day, talking to that old man.

Progress-

We're making progress:

Pawleys Island ca. 2009

 

Pawleys Island ca. 2011

Pawleys Island

Just got back from a semi-relaxing week at Pawleys Island with my dad's side of the fam. Before I dig back in too deeply to cramming for my partnership tax exam, I wanted to put up a few pics to the ol' weblog.

There were 19 of us total, including the 4 most recent additions to the Jupe Shaw clan - Jack, Sid, Caroline and Audrey. Just like the family, these kids are growing like crazy and super cute.

We didn't take a lot of posed pictures, but I think we managed to get everyone in this shot:

Until next time, Pawleys - hope you stay arrogantly shabby.

Made in America

I was driving home tonight and heard Toby Keith's new song come on the radio - Made in America. Moments later I was slapping the steering wheel, singing at the top of my lungs in the liberating way you can only do in the shower or alone in a car, and starting to get choked up by the second stanza.

he's got the red, white, and blue flyin' high on the farm / semper fi tattooed on his left arm

spends a little more at the store for a tag in the back that says u.s.a.

won't buy nothin' that he can't fix, / with wd40 and a craftsman wrench

I was flooded with thoughts I had collected over the last two weeks, but had made no effort to curate. How the Fourth of July is by far my favorite holiday; how amazing my children are turning out to be; how lucky I am to have married far better than I deserve - she's hot, she's smarter than a fox, and she puts up with all of my idiosyncrasies.

There is also this piece I found a few days ago by Mark Suster, renowned entrepreneur and venture capital investor - someone that probably knows alot more about the realization of the promise of America than a lot of the folks in charge. The grandson of a Romanian Jew that fled oppression to South America, married a old-world Colombian girl, and whose father immigrated to America from Medellin to raise his family. Mark has started two companies and invested in dozens more:

America is a place that has always welcomed the best from around the world. We have become a great nation through embracing those that seek religious freedom, tolerance, acceptance and economic opportunities for anybody who is hard working, industrious and who hustles. 

My dad talked about coming to this country. He talked about it as the land of opportunity for those around the world who sought to make a better life. While we couldn’t have totally open border there had to be some way to bring in more talented people to this country to help grow our base of the world’s smart people. 

Tears filled his eyes as he thought about those that couldn’t come to America. He spoke about the things that we still take for granted in our cozy living rooms. He thought about the plight of his long-time partner and her desire to spend time with her family. 

Freedom. It’s such an easy thing to take for granted when you have it. When you grew up with it. I know that I’m spoiled because I grew up taking it for granted. I stand on the shoulders of my grandfather’s hard work and accomplishments. I stand on the shoulders of my dad and his hard work in school and his desire to build a better life for us.

I really don't know what to make of my nationalistic fervor. But I love this damn country, despite how many people would have you believe it is all effed up. Yes, we have issues brewing that together could be considered an existential crisis. But the minutiae that fill the airwaves don't get to those fundamental risks, but only touch the patina of rust that colors the surface. And like any good old American-made car bumper, that shine polishes up nice if you put in the elbow grease. While I am concerned to some extent about our collective willingness to suffer the effort to fix our fundamental issues, I also realize that we've been through far more challenging times, and America is remarkably able to respond in exigent circumstances. So the chatter about the latest issues doesn't really faze me, and I am confident that whatever deep crises we face will be weathered at least as well as any other country. And when that bear's chasing you, you really only have to outrun all the other hikers.

 

Enough of the diatribe - we had a fabulous Fourth of July, full of family and sunshine and pooltime and BBQ and music and fireworks and parades. The kids rode their Radio Flyer wagon in the Converse Heights parade, Harold Jennings smoked up some quality 'cue, and a good time was had by all.

My heart stirs at the sight of the stars and stripes in the hands of my children and the promise they hold in their eyes. Long may you wave, America.

Happy Independence Day

From our patriotic family to yours.

Daddy runs a tight ship

Doc is out working this fine Saturday morning, laying hands and healing the sick and infirm. Meanwhile, Matilda's here at home keeping the indians at bay and protecting these fine young children from harm.


Well, I think I done tuckered them two out.

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No More Trees

It started with Sunday's big wind storm...



Three less Bradford pears in the front yard - the house looks quite a bit different! 

 

And I didn't even break a sweat!

Fathers Day

Fathers Day has been somewhat of a hard day for me since I lost my own sweet father in 2003. No one can replace him or the role he played in my life.  But for the past 3 years now, this day hasn't been so sad.  And this year, for the first time, as I watched the joy on my children's faces as they ran around the backyard with Matilda, I didn't feel so fatherless.  Dad is here, in my son's pout and my daughter's giggle, and my husband is an incredible man that has all the amazing qualities of my daddy.  He is to my children who my father was to me. There is no greater blessing than that.

Dear children, 

May you always know the joy of your father's laughter, love, and devotion in your daily lives. 

He is a uniquely spectacular man.

Love,

Momma

Highlands

In between my day job and the rest of my life, I've managed to post some pics of the Memorial Day Adult Retreat Extravaganza that was held in beautiful Highlands NC. Bud and Nana were gracious enough to entertain the rugrats for a weekend, and we fled to the hills (alone) for the first time since Jack was born. For those of you who are keeping track, that was 2 years 3 months and 26 days ago, give or take.



I won't say it was the highlight of the trip, but we took an adventure along the Horsepasture River, starting at the trailhead in the new Gorges State Park in Sapphire NC. The last time I was on the Horsepasture was probably 1992 or so (I think I remember the Lakers and the Celtics were in the NBA finals that summer) so needless to say I was dusting off some old cobwebs. We hiked down to the river, then up the watercourse past Rainbow Falls, several nice pools, Drift Falls, to fantastic little spot called Turtleback Falls (35.09249, -82.96633).

Turtleback is a point in the river where the water rolls over a gently sloping, very smooth expanse of stone and then drops 15 feet into a deep pool, turns sharply and then meanders on downriver. There are a few old ropes on the side of the rock face, and locals have been sliding and jumping and surfing off the falls into the pool for ages. The way the river turns out of the eddy means it is very hard if not impossible to get swept downriver, and the pool is deep enough to absorb the most fearless leaps.

Kim narrates my demonstration attempt:



My camerawork is not nearly as good, but my Parkinson's subsides just enough to prove that is Kim taking the plunge:



And one last jump before the now-infamous hike out on a route based entirely on Matilda's 5th-grade memories of Camp Buc:



So that's it. Next time I am allowed to navigate in the woods the kids will be carrying my urn.

Nature vs Nuture

Since our daughter was born and came out instantly and distinctly opposite from her brother, I am more and more falling into the Nature category when it comes to how much of a person's personality is born into them, so to speak.  Because of this, I have been able to relax a little and just enjoy seeing our children blossom into their fullest and God-given potential.  Unfortunately, Matilda doesn't quite share my same view.

For example, while on a lovely walk through the woods yesterday, Matilda continually pointed out what he considered to be obvious, interesting, and wonderful man-things to our son.  The centipede, while it drew rapt attention,did not stir the same Oh-Cool-Let-Me-Touch-It feelings Matilda thought it wound.  Disheartened, he went for pointing out small fish in the lake but again, it was "too dirty" for junior to want to dip his toes in.  Even the moss on his walking stick was just too much for our fastidious little boy to take and it had to be completely removed before he would touch it.  But, perhaps, the straw that broke the proverbial camel's back was the frog.  Yes, a sweet, tiny, jumping frog crossed our path. Matilda lit up like a boy scout earning his Kiss a Toad badge.  He quickly scooped up the frog in his hand and proudly and excitedly knelt to show his son the wonder of this creature only to have Jack run screaming as if Stephen had shown him a rabid foaming skunk. 

"It's because you always talk about everything eating him," Matilda grumbled as he released the amphibian with deflated emotion.  Moi?  Ok, so we play the What-animals-will-eat-you game frequently for fun.  Personally, knowing which animals to avoid due to risk of deadly harm seems to be just good parenting skills but Hubby thinks it has caused crossed wires and made our son, our cried-at-his-shadow-for-the-first-year-of-his-life little boy, a sissy.  I did point out that frog, centipede, and large sticks with moss were on the Safe list, which seemingly should have only reinforced positive and secure feelings, but I was again shot down for "engendering fear."  I again pointed out that our daughter, whom we made in a similar fashion as our son and is privy to all "yes, sharks will eat you" conversations has pounced on and devoured many a crawling insect and had no problem heading straight for the Parana-infested lake water. 

In the words of the now-famous and incredibly weird Lady GaGa, our tender-hearted little boy was just born this way.  He will never be an adventure seeker. He will always play close to the house, swim next to the boat, and generally avoid most creatures with more than 4 legs.  But, personally, as a mother, I find this behavior reassuring and quite a blessing as I just don't have to worry about him playing with the Black Widow that lives in front door.  Plus, he will also most likely be incredibly strong, amazingly creative, hilariously joyous, and as gentle, adoring, and protective of his family as his father is with us.    

At the lake

From the Department of Relaxation Department:

My efforts at sleeping in  this morning were stymied by a mind that is used to waking up at 6 every single day of the last 2 years, so I rolled out to the pool at 8 this morning with the NY Times that was delivered to our room at the Old Edwards Inn. This Highlands retreat is pretty incredible - and the pool is no exception. Built into a stone lined courtyard, surrounded by hemlock and laurel blossoms and sky, the lukewarm saltwater is relaxation itself. Being the first one there makes it even better. 

Mother's Day

Finally getting around to putting up some pictures from Mother's Day 2011, now 2 weeks late. It was a pretty durn good day - somehow, it just keeps getting better.

 

 

I don't know how on Earth I got so lucky to have a family like this. Thank you for making it happen, Mama.