I reached the height of my glory in 5th grade. Our English class was putting on a production of a short play set in colonial times, and the two main characters were a printer named Patrick and his wife, Anna. The role of Patrick had already been cast, and was set to be played brilliantly by my classmate, Lee. The role of Anna, the wife, was up for grabs. Our teacher, Mr. Bell, (a man whose name I still curse,) told me that he wanted to pick me to play Anna, but unfortunately I was taller than Lee, and since wives are not supposed to be taller than their husbands, I was ineligible to play the role. That was the first -and the last -time being extraordinarily tall would be a problem for me.
(By the way, I totally protested Mr. Bell's sexist bullshit and pointed out that by that logic my friend TJ, who was of Korean descent, should also be banned from the play based on historical demographics. Sorry Teej.)
But back to my main point: I am not a tall person. I'm not super short, either, but I've basically been 5'3" for 25 years, give or take. Similarly, Geno is the dude version of me: not tall, not short, just average.
Which is what makes our son's apparent giant-ness fascinating. Our "little" 18 month old towers over kids up to one year his senior, and everytime a stranger asks me how old he is, their response is something along the lines of, "No way! He's huge!" Technically I know that there are other 18 month old kids taller than him, because he's only in the 80th percentile for height (60th for weight), but I'm beginning to think they don't live in Connecticut.
Perhaps its time for a trip to the heartland to hang out with some children of the corn... I know they at least grow tall 5th grade girls.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Sunday, September 11, 2011
September 11th: For Posterity's Sake
On the morning of September 11, 2001, I was in my apartment in Central Square in Cambridge getting reading for the first day of my second year of Divinity School. It was a clear, sunny, blue-sky day, with a hint of crispness promising fall. Sometimes in the morning I would watch a few minutes of the news on the tv in my room, and at about 8:55am, I turned on CNN.
Suddenly disorienting pictures of one of the two World Trade Towers and a gaping hole in its side filled the room. I called to my friend and roommate, Beth, who was in her bedroom, also getting ready to head out to HDS. She came in, and within a minute, we watched the second plane hit. With our hands over our mouths and tears already in our eyes, we immediately turned to each other and said, "Bin Laden." (How we knew that, I'm really not sure.)
After a few more minutes of watching the news, we tore ourselves away from the tv and walked to the T. Like any other morning, it was packed, standing room only, and given the timing, there were people on the train who did not know anything yet about that morning's horror. A woman standing next to me and Beth said that she had heard that something had happened and wondered if it was real. We told her we saw the second plane hit.
Once we arrived at school, everything had been put on hold. Televisions had been wheeled out into common spaces, and my community of Christians, Muslims, Jews, Unitarians, Agnostics and Atheists stood together, side by side, as we heard about the Pentagon, Pennsylvania and then watched the towers fall.
Taking a break from watching news, I started emailing friends in DC and New York. (Phone lines were down.) One of those emails was to my future brother-in-law, Ricardo, who worked in the American Express Building, right next door to the World Trade Center. (He and my future sister-in-law, Alysse, had just moved into their brand new apartment in Battery Park just days before.) I didn't hear back from Ricardo until October, and not being able to track down Geno, (we weren't really in touch at the time), I was incredibly worried about Rick and Alysse...
That day, however, I did hear back from my dear friend Julie, who although from DC, happened to be visiting a friend in New York that morning. She wrote:
Hey!
The rest of the afternoon was much of a blur. At some point I felt the need to go home, and for some reason was by myself. Instead of walking, I decided to take the T, (which was running, also odd), and was one of three people standing in the Harvard Square station. One of the other two was a girl playing a keyboard, filling the cavernous platform with dissonant "new age" sounds. Surreal to say the least.
At home that night I finally could get through to my parents. As we talked and I cried, I distinctly remember saying how scared I was about what was going to happen next. About more innocent people dying unnecessarily. I so deeply wish I had been wrong.
In the following days, American flags lined the streets of Massachusetts Avenue, and life was a mixture of grief, confusion, pride, unity, fear and hope.
This morning, September 11, 2011, I spent the early morning hours giving thanks for Mateo and Geno and for my nephews, Jakob and Bennet, who are here today because of Rick and Alysse's ability to stay safe despite being at Ground Zero. I think of all the families who lost mothers, fathers and children not just on September 11, 2001, but in the war-filled decade that has followed, and cry.
God, grant us peace.
Suddenly disorienting pictures of one of the two World Trade Towers and a gaping hole in its side filled the room. I called to my friend and roommate, Beth, who was in her bedroom, also getting ready to head out to HDS. She came in, and within a minute, we watched the second plane hit. With our hands over our mouths and tears already in our eyes, we immediately turned to each other and said, "Bin Laden." (How we knew that, I'm really not sure.)
After a few more minutes of watching the news, we tore ourselves away from the tv and walked to the T. Like any other morning, it was packed, standing room only, and given the timing, there were people on the train who did not know anything yet about that morning's horror. A woman standing next to me and Beth said that she had heard that something had happened and wondered if it was real. We told her we saw the second plane hit.
Once we arrived at school, everything had been put on hold. Televisions had been wheeled out into common spaces, and my community of Christians, Muslims, Jews, Unitarians, Agnostics and Atheists stood together, side by side, as we heard about the Pentagon, Pennsylvania and then watched the towers fall.
Taking a break from watching news, I started emailing friends in DC and New York. (Phone lines were down.) One of those emails was to my future brother-in-law, Ricardo, who worked in the American Express Building, right next door to the World Trade Center. (He and my future sister-in-law, Alysse, had just moved into their brand new apartment in Battery Park just days before.) I didn't hear back from Ricardo until October, and not being able to track down Geno, (we weren't really in touch at the time), I was incredibly worried about Rick and Alysse...
That day, however, I did hear back from my dear friend Julie, who although from DC, happened to be visiting a friend in New York that morning. She wrote:
Hey!
I'm fine and I'm glad you are too! Are you at home or at school? GO HOME if you're not there. I'm in NYC -- 15 blocks from what was the World Trade Center -- with an unobstructed view. (I just got online at Peter's since all phones are down.) Haven't stopped crying since 8:45 this morning. Apparently, DC is just like NYC -- no subways, trains, roads, bridges, etc. are operating. Life changes in a second. I guess all we can do is pray (and stay safe).
Love,
Love,
-me
The rest of the afternoon was much of a blur. At some point I felt the need to go home, and for some reason was by myself. Instead of walking, I decided to take the T, (which was running, also odd), and was one of three people standing in the Harvard Square station. One of the other two was a girl playing a keyboard, filling the cavernous platform with dissonant "new age" sounds. Surreal to say the least.
At home that night I finally could get through to my parents. As we talked and I cried, I distinctly remember saying how scared I was about what was going to happen next. About more innocent people dying unnecessarily. I so deeply wish I had been wrong.
In the following days, American flags lined the streets of Massachusetts Avenue, and life was a mixture of grief, confusion, pride, unity, fear and hope.
This morning, September 11, 2011, I spent the early morning hours giving thanks for Mateo and Geno and for my nephews, Jakob and Bennet, who are here today because of Rick and Alysse's ability to stay safe despite being at Ground Zero. I think of all the families who lost mothers, fathers and children not just on September 11, 2001, but in the war-filled decade that has followed, and cry.
God, grant us peace.
Saturday, September 3, 2011
18 Months
Querido Mateo,
Yesterday you turned 1 1/2 years old. Your half birthday also happens to be your grandfather's actual birthday, which is a nice little coincidence. (Dad- I can't believe you're only 40!) I look forward to the day when we'll all be able to celebrate together. (Hint, hint, parents.)
So, this past month, was like, woah. While hurricanes and earthquakes roared around us, you decided to start speaking in short sentences. Now, what every single word in that sentence is, I could not begin to tell you, but you generally have the gist of, "What is that?," "I want pasta," "Dada is outside" and "Bye-bye Mama." (Among others.) You also have continued to sing your own little made up songs, and quite frequently add in some great dance moves. It brings me great joy, and I can't wait to subject you to choreography.
Other fun milestones have included getting your canines in, having your feet measured at a shoe store and losing your left pinky fingernail due to a really unfortunate finger-in-door jam incident. (I still shudder.)
You continue to be a big Elmo fan, but you also have a lot of love for Senor Sapo, the mascot of the show Atencion! Atencion!, a children's show from Puerto Rico that we watch youtube clips of on my phone. Here's your favorite song, which you ask for by saying "Haba," which is your pronunciation of "Habia... un sapo":
Perhaps our favorite new "move" that you have adopted this past month is your side shrug. Somewhere along the way you obviously saw one of us do it, and now you even do it in a contextually appropriate way, as if to say, "I don't know." Here I think the question was, "Are you the cutest baby ever?" Perfect response.
Te amo,
Ma-Maa!
Yesterday you turned 1 1/2 years old. Your half birthday also happens to be your grandfather's actual birthday, which is a nice little coincidence. (Dad- I can't believe you're only 40!) I look forward to the day when we'll all be able to celebrate together. (Hint, hint, parents.)
So, this past month, was like, woah. While hurricanes and earthquakes roared around us, you decided to start speaking in short sentences. Now, what every single word in that sentence is, I could not begin to tell you, but you generally have the gist of, "What is that?," "I want pasta," "Dada is outside" and "Bye-bye Mama." (Among others.) You also have continued to sing your own little made up songs, and quite frequently add in some great dance moves. It brings me great joy, and I can't wait to subject you to choreography.
Other fun milestones have included getting your canines in, having your feet measured at a shoe store and losing your left pinky fingernail due to a really unfortunate finger-in-door jam incident. (I still shudder.)
You continue to be a big Elmo fan, but you also have a lot of love for Senor Sapo, the mascot of the show Atencion! Atencion!, a children's show from Puerto Rico that we watch youtube clips of on my phone. Here's your favorite song, which you ask for by saying "Haba," which is your pronunciation of "Habia... un sapo":
Perhaps our favorite new "move" that you have adopted this past month is your side shrug. Somewhere along the way you obviously saw one of us do it, and now you even do it in a contextually appropriate way, as if to say, "I don't know." Here I think the question was, "Are you the cutest baby ever?" Perfect response.
Te amo,
Ma-Maa!
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