A few sunny Friday mornings ago I was walking across The New School’s campus when I noticed a fox eating out of the hand of a co-worker.  It felt like a Christmas miracle from a Hallmark movie, or maybe even a Frank Capra, so I stopped and watched for a few minutes, not quite believing my eyes. The fox finished its snack and slowly walked away, pausing to look at my friend every few seconds before finally vanishing in the nearby woods.  In the midst of shopping, rehearsing, teaching, making sack lunches, practicing spelling bee words, nagging Huck to wash his hair, hearing Troy talk about Star Wars and everything else that makes up my life these days, it was a welcome reminder of the magic that surrounds us sometimes.

Then Huck got an enormous splinter in one of his big toes. Because he takes after me when it comes to injury-courage, Huck would not let anyone look at or touch his splinter-toe, and even talking about it was discouraged, until the next evening when friends were over for dinner.  Chicagoan David, stage manager extraordinaire with very useful skills, somehow convinced Huck to give him his foot so that he could miraculously tweeze out the cause of such fret.  Huck screamed and Huck cried and we all carried on as if these were perfectly acceptable sounds, and in the end I couldn’t stop thanking this friend who literally saved the day (and Huck’s toe).  In conclusion, we keep having 70 degree weather, I won a day off of work last week, and one of my favorite fifth graders gave me homemade goodies with the hilarious introduction: “I made too much and thought, Hey!  Ms. Jonny!”

I guess what I’m trying to say is this: I hope you’re getting little bits of December magic, too.

It’s that magical time of year when one day it’s all pumpkins all the time and the next day it’s Christmas. We’re somewhere in the middle, having just enjoyed a week off together from school and work and having to be places first thing in the morning dressed in clothing. Right before the holidays officially kicked off, we had a fun weekend with Aunt Tina, Uncle Scott and twin cousins Jackson and Rylee, followed by Huck competing in an all day Quiz Bowl tournament where his team finished in second place.  These special events were like the delicious appetizers for the huge meal that is currently being served to us every waking minute. This feast has so far included beloved NYC friend Seth here to do TheatreSquared’s Christmas show, the lighting of the town square, many special meals with special people, a turkey hat, hikes, board-game competitions, a couple parades, the arcade with 10 year olds, nine days of sleeping in, sitting around fires, decorating our tree, watching Netflix, finishing books, making our annual Advent wreathe, and the creation of Troy’s 24th annual Christmas card.  Oh, I may be full but I will keep right on eating.  

Here are my annual fall pictures, including our November Thankful Pumpkin (and former October Halloween Pumpkin) sitting on our dining room table just waiting to be filled with more words. These fall days I’m directing “Annie” with middle schoolers and working on the sixth season of Prison Stories, Troy’s performing in readings of suicidal artists and lonely prisoners when he’s not singing to preschoolers, and Huck’s practicing hard for his first Quiz Bowl meet while mastering math problems and building his Pokemon collection. Perhaps best yet, we finally got all the way through “Finding Nemo,” having failed at this back when Huck was five.  Lots of laughs, minimal tears, fears conquered.

‘Tis easy to be thankful this time of year …

We had another wonderful Halloween, or as Troy calls it The Best Day of the Year.  Who knows how many full blown Halloween kid celebrations we have in our future, so this one carried an extra special something.  We trick or treated on the square Friday after school with our gigantic iPhone limping along, followed by pizza with friends. Saturday was devoted to preparing for the evening which meant pumpkin carving and seed roasting and cookie baking and scarecrow making and many more such October cliches.  We squeezed in a trip to a favorite coffee shop (where we were given coffee and a homemade chocolate mint cookie on the house because they were technically closed), and then took our annual drive around town to look at the houses and trees decked out in their autumn best.  Before we knew it we were back on our porch surrounded by a couple witches, a monster, a cat whose ears moved according to brain waves, Yenta and Chaim, Amadeus & Salieri, a rock star, Sunny’s best dog friend in a hat, a 2 year old alter server and Athena’s daughter. As a visiting friend said while our sidewalk was full of trick-or-treaters being given candy by Huck as the setting sun made everything extra orange, “Oh, the Fayetteville Charm.”

I’m sure every town felt like that on the best night of the year.

Last week Huck was taken to see a new movie with a friend and his family, only to be sweetly returned to us about three-quarters of the way through by a very understanding mom who sensed his anxiety.  The next day I received an email from another friend’s dad who was volunteering at the school health fair where he witnessed a very distraught Huck, having just been told they were out of flu mist and the only other option was the flu shot.  A few days after that we were at Huck’s school’s fall festival when suddenly he became very afraid he would be “arrested” and put into the “jail” by his gang of girl friends, suddenly insisting it was time to go home while he quickly ate his Italian Ice that made his lips bright blue.  I think I was wearing a hog nose around my neck at the time.

All of these fearful responses not only ripped my mother-heart into a million pieces but also caused me to break every rule of listening and instantly try to fix him.  ”You have to stop embracing your fears!” I exclaimed.  ”You must fight these things that are holding you back!”  I practically sang.  ”There is nothing to be afraid of!” I pantomimed, out of breath.  He nodded but looked shifty-eyed, not quite convinced. Then on Sunday morning in meditation class following 30 minutes of silence the subject was anger and fear, and someone said that hopefully we all had a wise adult in our lives when we were children telling us it was OK to feel the way we felt. Hours later I looked Huck straight into his brown eyes and made sure he knew it was okay to be afraid.

How do we prepare children for this big scary world? How do you convince them that shots are quick and important? That most of the time bees don’t sting? That zombies aren’t real?  That girls are supposed to tease?  That we’re not going to die for a really long time?  That it’s time to give “Finding Nemo” another chance?  That he’s as perfect as a fall day?

I don’t know.  But I do know this: Sometimes Huck forgets to put on his deodorant in the morning, and this really troubled him until he discovered that it lasts up to 48 hours.  ”It’s my warranty,” he explains with a cheerful smile. “Well, not for perspiration, but for smelling good.”

Not only did Huck and I get a whole week off together at the beginning of glorious beautiful perfect October, but then Dusty & Natalie came from New York and Shannon from Austin for a long weekend of Fayetteville fun.  With Russell & Cheryl living here, it was a regular family reunion.  There were hikes and coffee and vegan ice cream and belly laughter and more coffee and guitar playin’ and porch sittin’ and cairn buildin’ and rock climbin’ and the farmer’s market and the library and the chimenea and progress made with a shy dog and a charming visit to Eureka Springs that included a bunny who gives change and a brand new magic trick that generates applause.  Sometimes it’s hard to live so far away from so many favorite people, but these visits are always reminders that sometimes time stands still.  Before we knew it, it was time to hug goodbye and return to our regularly scheduled programs of early mornings and hours spent with the wonderful people that now make up our every days.

‘Till the next reunion, old friends.

We three woke up Sunday morning to a delightfully cold house and news that Huck had changed his mind about being a working camera for Halloween, much to a certain father’s relief.  That afternoon Huck printed off some good yes/no riddles for the car ride and we set out for another Arkansas adventure that would most definitely find us lost and eventually found thanks to southern hospitality. Because I’m in full autumn celebratory mode 24 hours a day, we headed to Dickey Farms in nearby Tontittown to pick our own pumpkins and enjoy a private hayride.  And since our neighborhood this year could also be called Halloweenville, we are hosting a trick-or-treat party on October 31st, and therefore our gigantic porch needs to be decorated.  Eight pumpkins later and we’ve hardly made a dent.

Now to watch Troy create a human smart phone.  Someone get me a pumpkin spice latte.

At the end of the school day today, Huck begins what he calls a Ten Day Weekend.  Now that he goes to a “continuous learning calendar” school, he and his classmates have “intercession weeks” throughout the year since they start in early August and end in early June.  I’m taking a vacation week to be with him, and favorite friends from New York and Austin are coming to join in on the fun, too.  I can’t help but notice that life is a series of special occasions (Our beloved NYC Chad just came to town!  Troy just did a First Thursday concert!), and Huck has inherited my habit of savoring the moments leading up to them.  This morning after my 6:00 alarm I climbed into bed with him as usual to gently wake him up.  With his morning breath filling the space around us, he excitedly began describing everything he wants to do beginning the second he arrives home today until he goes to bed tonight.  This child will appreciate every second of his time off from school, even the boring ones, and I will try to keep up with him. 

The other night you may have noticed a large moon that slowly disappeared and then became red.  Our family set up the chiminea in the front yard and mingled with neighbors as we marveled over the sight above us. I told Huck that the last time this happened Dad and I were 12 years old.  The next time this happens we will be 63 and Huck will be 28.  If I’m not careful, that night is going to sneak up on me and before I know it I’ll be doing some basic math in my head, amazed at how young the three of us are right now.  If I know me, I won’t be able to stop talking about it all day.  There will be lots of, “Can you imagine being 45 again?” and “Huck was TEN? We used to have a TEN YEAR OLD?”  So I’ve decided to savor these slow days and fast years and stop calling myself old.

As Huck waited for his carpool to pick him up this morning, he decided to mark the end of the first quarter of 5th grade by cleaning out his messy binder.  He left a pile of papers to save and kissed me goodbye with anticipation for this next special occasion of ours. After he left I found this “Starry Night” inspired poem he wrote among the papers, and I decided to start the day with it.

A few days ago we lost our dear friend Kimberly in New York.  For many years we lived in the same building on Riverside Drive, and she had a terrace with a view of the Hudson and the GW Bridge.  Huck grew up waving at New Jersey and watching sunsets and city gardening with Kimberly and her beau John, whom Huck nicknamed Coleus because of the abundance of that plant on the terrace. During our last few days in NYC, I requested a final terrace evening, and Kimberly joyfully gave it to me. No longer living at 1380 Riverside, we three took the familiar elevator up to the 16th floor where we’d spent so many hours over the years.  As always, Kimberly and John had the wine flowing and a special bubbly drink for Huck as we reminisced and looked forward to our new life far from the big city.  Kimberly was experiencing intense back pain but still managed to send us off with love, humor and great warmth.  At the end of the night John took the above picture of us.  Within weeks she was diagnosed with Stage 4 breast cancer.

We got the news on Sunday that Kimberly was at the end of her life, and on Monday many of our close friends gathered at her bedside in New York.  Those of us who lived elsewhere were connected through a series of texts and Facebook messages, together sharing story after story of our larger-than-life friend who we were somehow never going to see again.  At least not here on earth.

Huck loves the idea of infinity.  On Saturday he went up to his room and wrote this:

“This moment, right now, so precious,
yet it flies by like a migrating bird.
A moment can be long, or short,
but every infinite moment
all stitched together makes time itself.
What stitches them together?
Truths, lies, thoughts, feelings, questions, secrets, words
and all those random little things are the stitches of time itself.
Time, so infinite, sort of like space, but smaller, yet the same.
For time is one-dimensional,
and one directional,
while space is three dimensional
and has infinite directions.”

Until we meet again, sweet friend.

The other morning Huck was slowly yet frantically trying to get all his materials together for school while Troy waited for him in the car.  His overstuffed binder, making me nervous every time he zips it up, was giving him trouble.  ”Did you sign my agenda?” he asked in a panic.  Shoot! When will the two of us remember this daily requirement?  He handed me a pencil and then went back to putting his life together.  I had given him an envelope with 50 cents in it the night before for the next day’s Popcorn Friday and hoped it was somewhere in that important binder.  Finally he hefted the enormous backpack onto his body, kissed me passionately goodbye, and ran to the car.  It was 7:15 in the morning. By 7:30 I noticed the envelope with my handwriting sprawled upon it saying “Huck Schremmer – Popcorn Money.”

We didn’t use to be like this.

I was still recovering from the day before when I’d set up a play date that required Huck to take the bus home with his friend.  Huck had already gone to school when this plan was made because of his very early schedule, and so we attempted to get the news to him via his friend’s grandmother (and our friend) who teaches Huck’s advanced math group.  Hours later as my after-school program was just beginning, I received a phone call from Huck’s school saying he didn’t make it to his friend’s house.  Apparently when mothers get news like this all the blood stops running through their bodies and there’s no more oxygen in their brains.  I began walking briskly through the school with the phone pressed hard against my ear, finally ending up in the preschool laundry room that I didn’t know existed.  Somewhere during that journey I violently pantomimed to Troy through one of the classroom windows that Huck was missing.  Troy joined me in the dark room while I did deep breathing exercises and waited for the very nice lady to locate our child. Troy was sure Huck was perfectly fine, and deep inside I was too, but the other thing that happens to mothers in these instances is that they picture their child hitchhiking along a four lane highway about to be kidnapped by murderers.  Ten minutes later, the lady called me back with news that Huck was safe and sound at his after-school program.  My heart began pumping blood again and I felt my lungs fill up with sweet oxygen like the good old days.  As I regained feeling in my legs, I slowly returned to my role of after-school program director with a whole new sympathy for parents whose children we can’t find immediately.

When I got home I gave Huck about twelve more hugs than usual and asked him what happened.  He launched into a very serious speech about how he completely forgot about the play date because of how tired he is these days, how much he has on his mind, how hard he’s working, how much he’s learning, begging me to never, ever again change the plan in his already complicated day.  He’s a fifth grade business executive and I’m his Carol Burnett secretary.

Friday evening we three gathered on our porch having barely survived the week.  We had a glorious three day weekend ahead and Huck had half a bag of Friday Popcorn left in his backpack because somehow between the two of us we remembered the envelope.  Our weekend was filled with sleeping-in and good books and friends and relaxation and a touch of boredom.  It ended with a Labor day hike and swim at beautiful Kings River Falls with best friends, and we arrived back home to Indian food made by a dear friend & neighbor and flowers left on our porch by another dear friend & neighbor.  Last night before bed Huck excitedly listed everything Tuesday promised, including his first Quiz Bowl team practice and the start of Math Club.

Sometimes life is like this.

Photo By Geoff Brock