Under the Tulip Tree

Tourists in Our Own Town

Sometimes it doesn't take much to become tourists in your own town. Sometimes all it takes is two tickets to a black-tie gala and suddenly there's a reason to spend the night in a hotel and send the kids home with Grandma (of course, we let them jump on the bed first).

And it's only a tiny bit embarrassing when the valet takes your keys, opens your door, and asks, "Where are you folks from?" And you say, shyly, "Uh, we're from here, actually." He'll think that's great anyway and that will make you feel a little less embarrassed.

When the hotel brings you a complementary bottle of Pinto Noir, you'll know it's time for the kids to go home and that you should start getting ready for the party.

You've done this getting-ready-at-the-hotel thing before—proms, weddings, graduations. Always more fun than getting ready at home.

You'll arrive at the gala and it will be very glamorous and sophisticated. Very old-fashioned and movie star-ish, too.

You will be served a plethora of drinks and libations. A plethora.

And then the ceiling will open up with confetti, just like on New Year's Eve, and people will dance and dance and dance.

Soon enough, the clock will strike midnight and it will be time to walk your tired feet back to your hotel room. And quite soon after that, the kids will be returned to you, all smiles and full backpacks, ready to explore the city.

It will be Rose Festival weekend so you'll be able to see the floats from the Grand Floral Parade. You'll get close enough to actually smell the roses.

Then you'll see the fair in action and realize there's absolutely no way you can't stop. The kids will love you for it.

(Anticipation before the ride begins)

(Elation after the ride ends)

After a few more rides, you'll have to coerce everyone back to the hotel, back to the car, and back home.

You will all be ready for home again anyway.

You'll love being a tourist in your own town, and you'll also love that it's only a 10-minute drive back home.

You will be very glad about that.

ANY

Portland Evening

Meeting Michael downtown for the opening night of the Portland International Film Festival.

ANY

Heading out to dinner, just the two of us.

ANY

Skipping dessert, racing to the theater, almost late for the movie.

ANY

Wanting to stop and take pictures of everything.

ANY

Someone shuffling me along…

Sneaking out the side door after the movie, getting to the opening reception before the hungry crowd and grabbing a booth all to ourselves.

ANY

Going back home, back to reality, tired and glad.

ANY

My Journey as a Public School Parent

I grew up in affluent suburb of Chicago during the 70's and 80's. Our public schools were solid. Our programs and services were anything but lacking. Our facilities were excellent. Our class sizes were small. I also had no doubt that my teachers did not like me. My smart mouth may have contributed to that but I remember wondering why my principal hated me so much. I wondered if she hated everybody that much.

After my fairly small albeit unsheltered experience in grade school and junior high, I went to what was in my opinion, a pretty tough high school the next town over. There were almost 4,000 students at our school and they were kids from all walks of life. We had your typical football players, homecoming queens, cheerleaders, jocks, jerks, burn-outs, preppies, bimbos, drama geeks, do-gooders, geniuses, and just some all around nice people. There was every type of club, sport, and council you could imagine. We had a daycare for the babies of teenage mothers and we had bodyguards who were rumored to have been in some sort of hardcore fraternity because they all had the same "branding" on their upper arms.

There were hallways you didn't go into and there were staircases you didn't go down or up. I learned that the hard way when I was a freshman and went up the "wrong" staircase. A girl came at me from behind and pulled me down backwards by my ponytail. There were fights and gangs and drugs and suicides and some of my best friends went to rehab. I remember thinking that there were just too many kids there—way too many kids there and way too much trouble to get into. It was the first time that I ever felt that my suburb, that Chicago maybe, that the world even, was a pretty tough place to be.

That said, as distinctly as I remember the details of what scared me about my public high school, I remember what I loved about it equally well. Not all of my teachers hated me in high school and I was actually pretty inspired by some of them. I was given a tremendous amount of freedom to express myself and I learned to love art. I took jewelry classes and photography classes and courses in graphic design. I learned how to get along with and actually like people who were very different from me. I learned that there was a place for all of us. I am the product of the suburban public school system and I do not regret nor have I ever wished that that wasn't the case. I not only assumed that my own kids would one day go to public school, I had a hard time understanding how for some people, there was no assumption at all.

When I'd finally had my own kids, I was a long, long way from the suburbs of Chicago. I was raising my kids in a part of the country I'd never imagined myself before, and there was a new and different type of freedom in that. I wasn't living in the same town I grew up in and no one anticipated or expected that I'd do anything. There were no rules to adhere to—no footsteps in which to follow. I realized that there were many different ways to raise a familiy and how fortunate we all were to have the choice. I thought deeply about what raising a family looked like to me and I wondered how that was tied to the way I wanted to education my children. Did I want them to have what I had? Did I want something else for them? What did "something else" look like? What did I want?

I came to the conclusion that I wanted something different for my kids—different in all kinds of ways—though I wasn't sure how at the time. The truth was that I had become a much different parent than I thought I'd become, and maybe never would have become if I still lived in my home town. I believed that I shouldn't limit myself to just one idea and that even if I ended up turning to that one idea in the end, at least I would have truly thought about it. I started looking into the different ways children learn, and for the first time, I considered alternatives to public education. And I liked what I saw. I, once again, became something I never thought I'd become…

A private school parent.

ANY

(To be continued)

ANY

To the Snow

It was the last day of winter break, and since the snow didn't come to us, Michael suggested that we go to the snow—up on the mountain. It was a superb idea.

It was white, white, white everywhere with sparkly blue skies. Very different from our valley greens. It had been years since we were there in winter (or at all) but I can't say that it ever looked prettier.

Perry was totally and completely in love with the snow. I told him he was glowing and he said, "I know."

Our only mission was to find a little place to go sledding. And just a short distance past this sunken cabin, we found such a place.

There were hiking trails and cross-country ski paths everywhere so we followed a winding path and tested out a few runs before we found what we were looking for.

The sun was low and bright and it streamed through the dense trees like this all afternoon. I couldn't get over how beautiful and dreamy it looked.

(And I don't think Perry was the only one in love with the snow…)

It was quiet and cold and Michael pulled the kids up and over the hills on their sleds until he just couldn't do it anymore. I didn't think the kids would ever get tired.

After we'd stayed until our cheeks were bright pink and I couldn't feel my fingers anymore, I tried to convince everyone to go home. There was school the next day and it was starting to get dark but no one really wanted to go.

But the kids finally gave in and took off their snowy boots and jackets and cuddled up in the backseat under their blankets and we joined the line of cars that was inching its way back to the city. And then we said goodbye to (what Perry calls) Mountain Hood.

Goodbye for now, anyway. I have a hunch we will be back soon.

ANY