Family

Everything But Money, Part I

Posted on January 2, 2012 by Debora

I’m reading an amazing non-fiction book right now. It’s called “Everything But Money,” by Sam Levenson, and it was first published in 1949. The edition I’m holding is the fourteenth printing, published in 1966, and it contains mentions of events as recent as 1965, so it must have been updated as it was reprinted.

The book is in four parts. In Part 1 the author (who was born in 1911) describes his childhood in the poorest slums of Brooklyn, NY. His parents were Jewish immigrants, I think from Russia or thereabouts, and they had eight kids altogether while barely managing to stave off starvation under conditions of the most abject poverty. Although “abject” might not be the right word: his parents never saw a lack of money as any kind of excuse to fail in life, and they put a great deal of effort into their children’s education and moral guidance. The author grew up in a family that was financially destitute but very rich in love and support. Because of this, he and his seven siblings all overcame the poverty of their childhood and became successful in their adult lives.

In Part 2 the author talks about how different the experience of family life and parenting his own children is in the environment of middle class affluence and national prosperity of the 1950’s and ’60’s. He wonders if in some ways the benefits of “the good life” are actually detrimental to the healthy development of the younger generations. He talks about the ways in which society is failing those generations. By modern (2012) standards, the America he lives in sounds impossibly sane and prosperous, a sad reminder of how far we’ve fallen since those post-WWII glory days. It leaves the reader with the wistful sense that if more people had thought the way he did things might have gotten better instead of worse.

Part 3 is basically a personal monologue describing the author’s own outlook on society in general and parenting in particular. I don’t know what Part 4 is about, because I haven’t gotten there yet. But Part 3 keeps blowing my mind in the best possible way. I’d like to share some excerpts from it here, over the next few days, because I think in these modern times those philosophies and values are more relevant than ever.

So here’s my first offering:

I believe that each newborn child arrives on earth with a message to deliver to mankind. Clenched in his little fist is some particle of yet unrevealed truth, some missing clue, which may solve the enigma of man’s destiny. He has a limited amount of time to fulfill his mission and he will never get a second chance — nor will we. He may be our last hope. He must be treated as top sacred.

In a cosmos in which all things appear to have a meaning, what is his meaning? We who are older and presumably wiser must find the key to unlock the secret he carries within himself. The lock cannot be forced. Our mission is to exercise the kind of loving care which will prompt the child to open his fist and offer up his truth, his individuality, the irreducible atom of his self. We must provide the kind of environment in which the child will joyfully deliver his message through complete self-fulfillment.

When he is born we give him a public name. This provides only tentative identification until he finds his own true name, his potential at birth so completely realized that he and his work and his name become one. To have lived without having “made a name for himself” is virtually to have died at birth. We cannot allow him to be born a VIP and to die anonymously, often ignominiously. We cannot afford the loss of a single soul. We have already lost too many.

** ** **

I’ll post more as I get the chance. Meanwhile, the book is currently out of print but you can read it online here for free.

Categories: books, Family, kids, Life | Leave a comment

Our Grand Adventure, Part III

Posted on October 13, 2011 by Debora

Part I

Part II

**************************

Monday’s hike was my favorite part of the whole trip: we travelled west from the Village along the Rim Trail to a spot called Hermit’s Rest about 7 miles away. Some of the group opted to take the shuttle, which ran on a separate road not far from the trail and stopped at eight big overlook points along the rim before stopping at Hermit’s Rest and looping back to the Village. There were ten of us that chose to walk, and it was a fun group. The trail was pretty and the views were amazing; it was just a great hike.

We ended up taking a shuttle the last three miles or so to Hermit’s rest, where we found an old (built in 1904) structure that had been converted into a gift shop and snack bar. Underneath all the modern clutter the primitive design was wonderful.

And now it was afternoon, and the one thing no one wanted to do was risk missing the train back to Williams, so we caught a shuttle back to the Village. The kids and I collected our carry-on stuff from the Lodge and then walked along the Rim Trail back toward the depot. We’d given ourselves plenty of time, so we stopped for ice cream along the way.

Luke had been wanting to look inside the Hopi House (like Hermit’s Rest it was built in 1904, designed by Mary Colter and eventually converted into a gift shop) ever since we’d arrived in the Village, so we stopped there next and had a look around. It was two stories high and crammed full of shiny merchandise, but the structure itself looked like a house I could see myself living in. It reminded me of my grandfather’s simple and beautiful hand-built shack, but with more fireplaces.

And then it was time to head down to the train depot…

…and settle in for the ride back to Williams.

We saw deer and elk from the train, but I wasn’t quick enough with my camera to catch them.

At one point we were overtaken and boarded by armed bandits.

They did a bit of comedy schtick that was pretty funny even to a cantankerous old fart like myself. The three of them came down the aisle demanding “money, jewels and prized possessions” from random passengers, mostly focusing on kids. When the first guy got to me and Luke, my boy dramatically turned his pockets inside-out to demonstrate his possessionless condition. While I was still laughing at that, the big gunman moved to the seats behind us, and I heard him suddenly exclaim in genuine surprise and bafflement, “She hissed at me!” I looked back and saw Elizabeth clutching her beloved picture of Espio to her chest and looking like the first robber that tried to lay a hand on her “prized possession” might lose it at the wrist. The bandit moved on without another word, and I didn’t blame him.

Sometime after the train robbers had left the car, Fiddle Guy returned. He told all the same jokes and played all the same bits of music as he had on Sunday, and they were still lame.

We rolled into the Williams Depot around 5:45pm, bought an obligatory Grand Canyon Railway Christmas ornament and a tee-shirt, and loaded up the Saturn for the long drive home.

I made one big mistake on this outing, and that was not printing out the driving instructions in BOTH directions. I didn’t think about it until we were already in Arizona, and then I figured it wouldn’t really matter because I could just follow my printed instructions except in reverse. The trouble was that without actual exit names and numbers, it wasn’t as simple as it seemed. Specifically, it turns out that there is more than one way to get from I-40W to US-95S, and I managed to take the wrong one. By the time I’d realized my mistake I figured I might as well just keep going, since I knew I had to be on the 95 eventually anyway. The worrisome thing was, there was no sign of civilization for miles and miles and the AZ/CA border did not appear to be anywhere near where we’d left it on our way to Williams. I confess, I was beginning to quietly freak out a little. But Luke and Elizabeth responded to the situation with a combination of stoic acceptance and cheerful sense of adventure, and pretty soon we were making jokes about finally making it across the Arizona border only to find ourselves in New Mexico. If I have to be lost in the middle of nowhere, my kids are the people I want to be lost with.

Eventually we reached a town, and I stopped at a gas station to fill up and find out where the hell we were in relation to the border. So that’s when I found out that my poor choice of exits had brought us to Lake Havasu, well north of where we should have been, but that staying on the 95 was still our best bet. We eventually crossed the border in Parker and got back to Anza without any further incidents. The next day I google-mapped our detour and learned that I’d inadvertently added about 150 miles to our journey home. The baffling part was that it didn’t really take us that much longer at all. We left Williams at about 6:30 Monday afternoon and were home by 1am Tuesday morning, so about 6.5 hours. According to Google it should have taken over nine hours to travel home the way we did. Not that I’m complaining, mind you.

[EDIT: And now that I’ve had more sleep and checked the route again, ACCURATELY this time, I see that my improvised route only added about 15 miles to the trip. That would explain why it didn’t take us much longer. Whew.]

We slept like dead people, but surprisingly had no trouble getting up the next morning and getting the kids off to school. As eventful and sleepless as our outing had been, it left us more energized than exhausted.

I’ll say it again: the Grand Canyon is amazing. It really is one of the great wonders of the natural world, something everyone should see at least once. The kids haven’t stopped talking about it since we got back.

Still…it’s good to be home.

Categories: Family, Friends, Humor, kids, Life, Love, Road trip, Travel | Tags: , | 4 Comments

Our Grand Adventure, Part II

Posted on October 12, 2011 by Debora

Read Part I Here

The South Rim of the Grand Canyon is at 7000ft elevation. The weather was as perfect as it possibly could have been for hiking, but the thinner atmosphere meant that temps dropped below freezing at night and then warmed back up when the sun rose. It was strong, high-altitude sunshine, so even though the official high said 60º in the shade, it felt like 75º in direct sunlight. Wearing layers was key. That first day at the Canyon was when I realized that early October is a much better time time to visit than December: we would have been freezing our behinds off if we’d stuck to the original plan!

Sunday afternoon we met up with the other group members that wanted to hike along the Rim Trail east of the Village. Despite the altitude and not having slept much for the past two nights, the kids and I were bouncy with energy and eager to keep moving.

Once Elizabeth got past her initial amazement at the sheer enormity of the thing, she quickly transitioned to finding places where there was no railing or barrier between the trail and the abyss, and then finding a rocky outcropping to stand on where a fall would mean certain death, and then going out and standing on it, thusly:

I still haven’t decided whether I’m a bad parent for allowing this, or a good parent for encouraging her to live life to the fullest. Twenty years from now I’ll know which one it was, I suppose.

Luke found the Canyon actively intimidating. He was fine as long as there was a nice sturdy railing or wall between himself and the drop, but he wanted nothing to do with the unshielded outcroppings. I actually have very few pictures of Luke near the rim, and in the ones I do have he’s either on the safe side of a railing or wall (and if the wall is too low he still looks uncomfortable)…

…or there’s no barrier and I have a casual death grip on him to keep him in the photo.

Anyway. After the hike on Sunday we checked into our rooms to clean up for dinner. The group had reservations in the Arizona Room at Bright Angel Lodge, but it (and every other restaurant in the Village) was so crowded that we ended up waiting for an hour in the bitterly cold dark before our table was ready. The food was good though, and the portions were so huge that the kids and I took half our meals back to our room with us and had them for breakfast the next morning. And as we walked back to Maswik Lodge that night a small herd of deer walked fearlessly past us to graze on the Bright Angel lawns. I wish I’d had my camera with me, but I hadn’t brought it to the restaurant.

Again, some of us were ready for bed earlier than others. The kids and I were sound asleep by the time our roommate returned. This time I was so tired that I woke up briefly when she came in and immediately went back to sleep. But at some point after that she actually woke me up on purpose to ask me something. I was so groggy I barely remember it, but (as I learned the next morning) apparently she had become separated from the people she was walking back to the Lodge with, and while she was alone she had come across an elk, and the experience had unnerved her, and she felt the need to recenter herself with some Buddhist chants, and APPARENTLY I told her that would be fine. So, yeah. Chanting. In the wee hours of the morning. Even Elizabeth couldn’t sleep through that. It seemed to go on for hours, although it was probably more like thirty minutes. When she finally stopped and went to bed I fell asleep so fast that I never even heard the snoring, but apparently Luke wasn’t so fortunate: once again he didn’t get much sleep.

To describe Luke as “surly” the next morning would be a considerable understatement. As ordered, he did not say anything to our roommate, but once we were away from her and out with the group members who were hiking with us that day he complained bitterly about every little thing, and the unfairness of life in general. For the first hour or so he was just not much fun to be around.

But. Monday’s hike turned out to be insanely fun. We were following the Rim Trail to the west this time, which was woodsier and less populated, and led to a series of breathtaking vistas. Even poor sleep-deprived Luke eventually recovered his good spirits in the evergreen-scented air, and he fell in with a younger boy from our group who also liked to keep a healthy distance from steep drops. They kept each other company, while Elizabeth and I spent the day terrifying each other by walking out onto increasing dangerous rocky outcroppings.

The West Rim Trail also offered wonderful views of the Village.

And this is getting pretty long, so I think I’ll stop here and continue tomorrow. Stay tuned!

Read Part III Here

Categories: Family, Friends, Humor, kids, Life, Love, Road trip, Travel, Wildlife | Tags: , | Leave a comment

Our Grand Adventure, Part I

Posted on October 11, 2011 by Debora

This week the kids and I got to cross two more items off our bucket list: traveling somewhere by train…

…and seeing the Grand Canyon.

When we first started talking about this trip, we’d planned to do it sometime between Thanksgiving and Christmas. The kids would be out of school, the garden would be in low-maintenance mode, and it wouldn’t be too hot to hike the Rim. I mentioned the idea to another mom in my hiking group, and she must have mentioned it to others, because pretty soon it had become an official group outing. This was awesome, for several reasons. One, I’m realistic about the risks of a single mom and two kids traveling by themselves, and a group feels safer. Two, it’s more fun to hike with other people. And the biggest reason, the lady who organized the trip did such an amazing job of planning and finding discounts, that we ended up doing WAY more fun stuff than the kids and I had originally planned, for hundreds of dollars less than our basic plan would have cost! It was unbelievable how inexpensive and FUN this trip was. The only downside was that the trip was scheduled for October rather than December, which actually turned out to be an upside, as we realized later.

We left Anza on Saturday morning. Most of the group were carpooling from the Temecula or Hemet areas, or taking Amtrak from Riverside CA to Williams AZ, but it made more sense for the kids and I to drive straight from Anza to Williams via Palm Springs, rather than detouring in the opposite direction to follow the others.

The weather was autumn-brisk, and this was our holiday trip after all, so we blasted Christmas music the whole way there. Trans-Siberian Orchestra makes the miles fly past, and the drive felt shorter than the six or so hours it took. We arrived at the Grand Canyon Railway Hotel around 4pm, checked into our room, met our roommate (sharing rooms was part of the package) and then explored the grounds. We found a heated indoor swimming pool and a jacuzzi, and wished we’d brought our swimsuits. Then we found a gym, stocked with a dozen different kinds of workout and weightlifting equipment. We had it mostly to ourselves, so the kids had to try every single step-trainer, spinner, cross-trainer, weight press and treadmill in the place.

At 6:00 we met with the rest of the group for dinner. One of the really cool things about this outing was that nearly everything was covered by the incredibly low package price that we’d already paid, including dinner Saturday night and breakfast Sunday morning at the Railway Hotel Restaurant. It was buffet style, so no shortage of food. After dinner the whole group relaxed in front of the fire in the beautiful lobby, and discussed hiking plans for Sunday and Monday.

Brief tangent: the furniture in the hotel lobby was enormous. When I sat on one of the sofas there I felt like a child. Luke and Elizabeth looked like toddlers.

That fireplace in the photo is HUGE, but it looks normal-sized next to that giant furniture.

Anyway, so we planned our itineraries. Some of us really wanted to get out there and hike the trails, others preferred to make use of the shuttle tours, and some were looking forward to just relaxing and socializing in the Village. There were something like 23 of us altogether, so a bit of organizing was needed to make sure everyone had the experience they wanted.

Once all of that was settled, most of the group went out to enjoy the Williams nightlife. The kids and I headed back to our room, relaxed for a while and were asleep by ten, because we are party animals that way.

Alas, our roommate stumbled in very late (or early, really), puttered around noisily for what seemed like forever, and then finally went to sleep — and began snoring at such an impressive volume that all our hopes of sleep were shattered. Well, Elizabeth managed to doze off, but Luke and I buried our heads under pillows and blankets to no avail. I think I finally managed a fitful sleep sometime after four, because when the alarm went off at six it did wake me up. Luke apparently had the same thought, because he sat up and said in a surprised voice, “Wow, I DID fall asleep!”

One thing about Luke: if he feels that someone is in need of chastising, he ain’t shy. Until we’d gotten dressed and left the room I had to constantly shush him, because he fully intended to give our roommate a lengthy piece of his mind. Once we’d checked our luggage and were heading to breakfast, I was able to explain to him that some people stay up later than others, and some people snore, and it’s just the luck of the draw when it comes to matching up roommates, and she wasn’t trying to keep us awake on purpose, and under no circumstances was he allowed to scold her. He accepted that, though not particularly gracefully, and then we went to the restaurant and comforted ourselves with orange juice and eggs and sausage and fajitas and biscuits and gravy and muffins and pastries and yogurt and frittatas and toast.

After breakfast we gathered up our carry-on belongings and headed over to the train depot. Once there we were treated to the obligatory goofy Western shootout show.

Luke thought it was hilarious. Elizabeth thought it was amusing. I am a cantankerous old fart and was glad when it was over.

Then we boarded the train, and we were off to the Canyon! It took about two hours and 15 minutes to get there, and the scenery was wonderful.

We saw a herd of antelope in a meadow; there was wildlife everywhere. Near the end of the ride a guy came to our car with a fiddle and entertained us with corny jokes.

Being a cantankerous old fart, I enjoyed that about as much as I’d enjoyed the Old West show. Sorry Fiddle Guy, but your jokes are lame. Make funny jokes and I will like you.

Once we arrived at the Grand Canyon Depot on the South Rim, we caught a shuttle to Maswik Lodge, where we would be spending Sunday night. It was too early to check into our room, but our checked luggage had already arrived there and we were able to drop off some of our carry-on stuff for safekeeping. Then the kids and I walked up to the Rim to get our first look at the main attraction.

Technically, it wasn’t the first time I’d seen the Grand Canyon. My parents had taken me there a few times as a kid, so I had a vague memory of it. And to be honest, I was a little concerned that Luke and Elizabeth would be too jaded by the wonders of modern technology to be impressed by a canyon, however grand.

So we walked up to the Rim, and there it was, stark and colorful and impossibly vast.

It’s so big that you can only can only see parts of it at a time. As long as it took us to drive from Anza CA to Williams AZ, that’s how long it would take if you were to drive from the South Rim around to the North Rim.

I said, “Wow.”

The kids didn’t say anything for a long time.

We walked along the rim trail for a while, killing time until it was time to rejoin the group. I could see that the kids were not unimpressed — quite the opposite — but they seemed to be having trouble finding the right words to describe the sheer enormity of the thing.

Elizabeth finally found a comfortable context in technology. “It looks fake,” she decided. “Like a painted backdrop.”

“CGI maybe,” I nodded. “It’s gotta be special effects.”

“Yeah.”

Luke took longer to put his reaction into words. I think it was a couple of hours later; he’d been unusually quiet since his first glimpse into the abyss. “There is NO WAY,” he suddenly burst out, “that Paul Bunyon could have made that by dragging his axe along the ground. I don’t care HOW big he was.”

*****************************

Read Part II Here.

Categories: Christmas, Family, Friends, Humor, kids, Life, Love, Road trip, Travel, Wildlife | Tags: , | 1 Comment

The Treasury And Guardian

Posted on July 29, 2011 by Debora

Elizabeth’s best friend has been overseas since school got out for the summer, and just got back into town this week. This was perfect timing, since we’d already planned an excursion to Riverside and both girls jumped at the chance to spend the day together catching up.

I know what you’re thinking: what kind of crazy person goes mountain-climbing in July in SoCal? I’m right there with you, it was sheer madness. BUT it was for a good cause. See, the real destination that day was the paddleboats at Fairmount Park. The first time I brought Luke and Elizabeth to the park a few years ago, I’d noticed that the old boathouse had been fixed up and a sign stated that it was open for rentals Wednesdays through Sundays. About a year later we returned on a fine sunny Thursday in May, eager to rent us some paddleboats, only to be told by a park employee that the boathouse was only open during the midsummer months. Obviously a trip to Riverside in the dog days of summer is something for which one has to work up a certain amount of courage, so for a long while we just stuck to visits during the winter holidays when the Mission Inn was all lit up and there was no risk of heatstroke. But eventually we manned up and made our plans for a July outing.

We probably would have skipped the traditional climb up Mt. Rubidoux if Elizabeth’s bff hadn’t been with us, but we couldn’t take her all the way to Riverside and then NOT show her our favorite mountaintop. It turned out to to be just as INCREDIBLY FREAKING HOT as one would expect, but other than that it was a really fun climb. The kids chattered nonstop all the way up and all the way down, and at least half of their conversations were NOT about how incredibly freaking hot the day was.

So then we headed over to Fairmount Park, and the first thing I noticed was that the playground had been completely rebuilt with much better equipment. The kids whooshed past it though on their single-minded hike to the boathouse. Which was … closed.

Elizabeth and her friend took it philosophically, but Luke was Greatly Disappointed. So I pulled out my cell and dialed the number on the sign and demanded to know why the boathouse people were determined to ruin my children’s happiness, but in nicer words than that. They explained that now they’re only open on Wednesdays and weekends. Yerg.

On the plus side … shiny new playground. Luke was not willing to be placated with slides and jungle gyms, but even he was eventually won over by the sheer ingenuity of the new equipment. Remember how all the coolest playgrounds used to have those great merry-go-rounds, but then they were taken out because kids were getting under them and getting killed? Some genius got around that problem by designing a TALL merry-go-round that kids can grab onto and hang from. Or, if the kids have a … let us say a casual regard for the intended usage, they can scramble up on top of it and enjoy an awesome spinny ride, thusly:

And words cannot capture the simple ingenuity of this device:

Basically you stand on it and use your own weight to make it spin. More weight = faster spinning, so two people can go faster than one.

The whole playground was full of win, including a big percussion-band area, a linear obstacle course and some clever stationary pogo sticks. I had a tough time dragging the kids away from it, but there was something on the other side of the lake that I wanted to check out. The last time we’d come to the park, there had been a fenced-off construction zone there, but now whatever is was appeared to be finished and open. So we walked around the lake to investigate. And what we found exceeded our wildest expectations. A whole NEW play area had been constructed there, designed to look like a carnival, with more bells and whistles than I had ever seen in any play area before.

Seriously, I’ve never seen a playground with so many engaging things for little kids and big kids to push and pull and spin and climb and bounce and ring and slide and splash around in. Yes, it even had a water-play area, where we all happily soaked ourselves.

See this slide?

It’s made of free-rolling enameled-metal cylinders to create a fast, frictionless ride. All slides should be made this way.

Okay, look at the raised grid of squares on the ground in front of the girls:

The squares make beautiful chiming sounds when you step on them, a different note for each square. You can make actual music.

I could go on, but you get the idea. Someone put an amazing amount of creativity and effort into these two playgrounds. And they’re built SOLID, out of sturdy metal, like playgrounds used to be when they were meant to last for generations, before plastic took over the world. It was wonderful to see all the delighted children and their smiling parents enjoying the park together. We will definitely be going back, whether or not we ever manage to catch that blasted boathouse actually open.

These words were carved into the stone tiles near the front of the carnival playground:

“Memory is the treasury and guardian of all things.” I love this. And I love that even in this desperately borked California economy, the value of providing a place like this for families to create memories together was recognized and provided for.

[EDIT: I’m a bit slow on the uptake apparently, but I just realized why the park chose that particular design and that particular quote. When I used to come here as a little kid, younger than Luke is now, there used to be an actual carnival set up on the weekends right where the new playground is now. I can’t believe I didn’t make the connection sooner. /edit]

Traditionally the next part of our Riverside outing is a walk through the Mission Inn Marketplace and then a visit to the Riverside Natural History Museum, but we’d spent much longer than usual at the park this time so I suggested we head back home. Luke said that we couldn’t POSSIBLY go home without going to the Museum, the very IDEA was absurd.

A few words about this Museum (which I just googled to make sure I had the name right and discovered that it’s actually called the Riverside Metropolitan Museum. Hunh.). When I was just about Elizabeth’s age I used to live in downtown Riverside, right on the corner of 7th and Locust. That’s walking distance (or bike-riding distance) from Mt. Rubidoux, Fairmount Park, the Mission Inn, the big Riverside Library, and two museums: an art museum that for some reason I felt intimidated by and never visited (also I think it cost money to get in, and I never had any of that back then), and the one I always thought of as the Natural History Museum, which I absolutely loved. It was full of taxidermied California wildlife, and old paraphernalia from Riverside’s orange-producing glory days, and Native American artifacts, and generally it just seemed like a magical place to me.

Memory being the treasury and guardian of all things, once I grew up and had kids of my own I wanted to share my old stomping grounds with them. I wasn’t able to do that during my marriage, because Steve was, well, afraid of Riverside. He saw it as a terrifying urban ghetto and was sure that a visit there would result in our car being stripped for parts and all four of us being mugged and left for dead in a dark alley somewhere. So there was that.

Within a month of my marriage ending I took the kids to Riverside, and felt a part of myself heal as we stood atop Mt. Rubidoux as free citizens. I showed them the Mission Inn and the Library (don’t laugh, it’s huge and awesome and it’s easy to lose an entire afternoon there) and of course the Museum.

To my mild disappointment Elizabeth has never shown much interest in my beloved Riverside Nat — er, Metropolitan Museum (although to be fair, the taxidermied animals have begun to look slightly motheaten and some of my favorite old exhibits had been removed over the nearly three decades separating my adolescence and hers), but Luke’s enthusiasm makes up for it. He loves it the way I used to, although for different reasons. He can’t get enough of the old orange-production gadgets and century-old technology displays. I’d always liked the animals the best. But it warms my heart to see his passion for a place that Young Me had once been passionate about.

So anyway, yesterday we left Fairmount Park and headed over to the Museum. It not only appeared to be closed, it was also covered in the sort of scaffolding that generally indicates major renovations. For a brief moment I thought Luke’s head was going to explode, but apparently he was too worn out from frolicking at the park to put much energy into this fresh disappointment. He grumbled something about everyone conspiring against his fun, and then shrugged it off and returned to cheerful mode.

(When I googled the museum I discovered that it’s actually remaining open during the construction. Oops. But in my defense, it really looked closed.)

If I’d posted this yesterday I could close with a nice “Love Thursday” sentiment, but I’m a day late for that. So instead, here’s a pic I took at Fairmount Park of an informal round of Duck, Duck, Goose.

You’re welcome.

Categories: Animals, Fairmount Park, Family, Friends, kids, Life, Love, Mt. Rubidoux, Weather | 4 Comments

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