summer

Summer Vacation, Day 89: Butterflies

/ J. Thorp / 1 Comment

You might think this post is about Emma’s first full day of school, with lunch and recess and everything. It’s not. It’s about the butterfly garden at the Como Zoo — our visit to which was appropriately overshadowed by Gabe’s illness and sudden eruption in the zoo lobby. Jodi wasn’t convinced she wanted to go through the butterfly house, which looks like a giant monarch caterpillar made of yellow, white and black striped mesh. I thought the kids would like it, though, so we got in line. Turns out I may have liked it best.

I should mention that, as we walked from the car to the zoo, we followed a monarch flip-fluttering on the breeze, brilliant orange against the green of the trees along the walk. It sparked something in me — just for a second, I wanted to follow it.

So — we entered the butterfly garden, and we’re surrounded. Broad-winged blue butterflies. Little reds and yellows. So many you can hear their wing beats — so delicate we were instructed not to touch them or brush them off, so strong they dogfight the breezes and come out on top. We saw young butterflies courting, and an old giant with wings like frayed denim flap his death-dance in the shady dirt beneath the flowers. Each one seemed as lovely and surprising and unique as summer day — soaring or topsy-turvy, feasting or resting, brilliant or melancholy …

Quite a collection — of Lepidotera and long summer days. Hope yours was good, too.

Summer Vacation, Day 88: Presence Makes the Absence Harder

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I mentioned before that Betsy moved to Minnesota with us five years ago. It was the summer between her junior and senior years of high school, and she spent it watching our three kids while I worked for Hanley-Wood and Jodi looked for day care and a job.

We knew several girls from out old youth group who could’ve fit the bill, but there was something about Betsy. While she stayed with us this week, Jodi recalled the time when, a few minutes before the start of Mass, a girl who had a speaking role got nervous and said she couldn’t do it. Betsy shrugged and said, “I’ll do it.” No rehearsal, no nothing; she saw what needed to be done, and stepped up. I remember telling Jodi that I knew if anything went wrong at home, she would take care of the kids – even in high school, she was a loving and self-sacrificing girl.

Before she arrived last weekend, it had been four years since she’d visited. College and bills had kept her away since her godson Trevor’s baptism. We knew we missed her, but while we were excited to see her, Trevor didn’t remember her per se and there was the chance that the years had put some distance between us.

She spent a week with us, helping Jodi with her daycare, entertaining the kids, even doing dishes. She got growlly when we told her it was her vacation and she didn’t have to help. She was one of our own again, and when she left this afternoon, we all noticed something: Having just had her back, we miss her more this moment than the last many months combined.

She called a little while ago. She’s on the ground in Michigan, safe and sound. She said she loves us.

We love you, too, dear one.

Summer Vacation, Day 87: Sicko!

/ J. Thorp / 5 Comments

I’m sticking my neck out a bit in hopes that Jodi and I aren’t alone in what happened to us today. Actually, today was all my fault. Allow me to explain …

We took the older boys to tai chi class, then all of us (the entire family, including Betsy), went to Como Zoo in St. Paul. It was hot, but we were drinking lots of water, and there was a nice breeze blowing. No worries, right?

Now, our kids are generally gung-ho for a visit to a park, a zoo, a mall, you name it – at least until we get there. The enthusiasm generally wanes after a little while of walking, and they start to complain they are tired, hungry, bored, etc.

So as we’re going through the butterfly garden (slow going in “bumper-to-bumper” pedestrian traffic), Gabe keeps crouching down in the path, sitting down, flopping around in front of people. And I’m getting after him about it, because I figure he’s getting lazy and grumpy and now is not the time.

Finally he basically sits on by foot, and I give him a light kick in the butt and say, “Gabe! Keep moving!”

Jodi puts her arm around him and asks if he’s feeling alright.

“He’s fine,” I growl.

We’re headed back to the car, but Jodi, Emma and Trevor need the rest room. Bren, Gabe and I decide to walk the little rainforest loop near the entrance. Halfway through, Gabe says, “Dad, I need to get out of here.” I look, and he’s pale as a milk jug – even his lips are white. We rush him out, sit him down, and give him sips of water. Jodi asks if he’s gonna be sick. He thinks a moment, then looks at me and says, “I need to get to the bathroom …”

We made it about halfway. I was trying to steer his through the crowd and keep my cupped hands in front of him. When he erupted, those big ol’ hands successfully made the mess twice as bad by keeping it close to us. Gabe’s shirt, shorts and shoes; my hands, forearms, and shoes. Once bystanders realized what was happening, the sea of people parted, and we made it to the bathroom … just in time to clean up.

There is no worse feeling in the world than to blame your child for something they didn’t do, except maybe to not recognize there’s something genuinely wrong until it’s too late. Combine the two, and it’s miserable. I apologized to Gabe. He thinks puking on me was pretty good revenge.

Summer Vacation, Day 86: Summer’s End

/ J. Thorp / 6 Comments

Well, here it is – the last, long weekend of summer. I think this daily blogging sped the days by quicker than usual (and they pass quick enough, anyway!). After Monday, it’s back to the occasional/as needed blog posts. I’ll try to give you three more good’ns before then, but tonight, I’m tired and it’s late.

Thanks, all, for reading. If you never commented, do – it does a guy good to know you’re there.

Summer Vacation, Day 86: The Edge

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Blogger’s Note: I think I’m done now. No more weird poetry in the archive. I don’t know what inspired me to this “any moment you could snap” stuff, but there it is. Enjoy.

that edge is closer than you think
stand a minute, knowing well the world
is round, rain wets, life breathes,
love conquers all.
what proof have we? do we know
even ourselves? our own potential
to disappoint is manifest—are we not
of the world? why then persist?
rise tomorrow, should it come, and
convince yourself of absolutes,
relativity, the gravity that binds.
the sun will rise, the snow fall,
the market rebound, the phone ring—
and when these things do not,
jump

J. Thorp
22 Jan 2002