Sunday, September 21, 2008

Summer's twilight





































All good things must come to an end, and so it is with summer. Or what summer we've had up here this year, since it was one of the coolest on record in Alaska. Still, we made the most of what we could, and are now enjoying our brief autumn. There are oceans of birch trees up here, and their half dollar-sized leaves are now in full technicolor display. It's nothing compared to the New England falls Brandon and Stephanie were used to years ago, but the scale up here dwarfs everywhere else. Termination dust has also appeared on the surrounding Talkeetna and Chugach mountains. TD is the first snow of the season, coating the mountains and serving as a reminder of what's to come.

Of course, we attended the Alaska State Fair this year. It was our fourth time around, and as fun as ever. You haven't lived till you've jostled your way to the fried cheese curd booth for a taste of ridiculously unhealthy Americana. Barack Obama's campaign, which opened an office in Anchorage several months ago, even had a booth there. In fact, it was the day after we went that Sarah Palin was at the fair, and reportedly received the call from John McCain asking her to run.

No doubt most of you are now intimately familiar with Wasilla. Many of you know we live next door to Sarah's sister, Molly McCann. If you've heard of "Troopergate", this is the sister in question. Despite our political differences, she's very pleasant, and the neighbor we talk to the most. Brandon and the kids walked over the other day to say hi, and waved hello to Mr. Heath, father to both Molly and Sarah. Molly pointed out the two Secret Service agents sitting in their parked Ford Explorer. For such a quiet neighborhood, it's been a surreal past few weeks.

Brandon was able to take the kids canoeing in an area bordering Nancy Lake, a state recreation area and collection of lakes, which are interconnected by portage trails, forming an incredible canoe trail. We spied some beautiful loons, each pair of which seem to lay claim to their own lake to raise their young. Mama loon was quick to paddle over and escort her baby away when we drifted too close. Unfortunately, we weren't able to do any camping this year, but now that Calvin is getting bigger, we hope to make up for it next year.

Speaking of Calvin, he's doing wonderfully. He smiles and talks and grabs things, and though he recently had a painful bout of some sort of urinary infection, the worst seems to be over. He's a very happy little man. Chloe turned 4 on August 31st, passing two important milestones - she can now eat the entire chewable vitamin (instead of half), and finally gets to use a booster seat in the car (as opposed to a full-fledged child seat). Hey, these are big steps for a kid. She's more beautiful than ever, and is loving being one of the bigger kids now in preschool. Malcolm is of course a first grader this year. He quickly took to the new class, and his love for science and nature are well nurtured. Our general philosophy with school is to have the kids do the exact opposite of whatever Brandon did growing up. With plenty of help from Mama and Daddy, we expect our biggest problem to be figuring out how to pay for Stanford.

We also finally took the plunge and bought a guinea pig for the kids. We named her Totoro, and she's already a huge hit. As long as we don't let the cat near her, all will be well.

Our firewood collection is robust, and we're prepared for winter. Till then, we're just enjoying the fall colors, the leaf piles and the smell of fresh rain. Stephanie and Brandon are still shaking their heads at all of the sudden attention on our little town, and it's bewildering to see CNN reporting from local bars in Anchorage, or The Daily Show from Wal-Mart. Then again, maybe having a couple Secret Service agents next door will help keep the yahoos away. :)

♥, Calvin, Chloe, Malcolm, Stephanie and Brandon

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Two years on.

Ryan reminded me that today is the second anniversary of learning of Mom's death. I still remember his call that day, and how hoarse and raw his voice was from screaming and crying. I remember having to keep my composure well enough to explain it to Malcolm and Chloe, that Nana was gone forever. Aged 5 and 2, it was their first experience of losing a close family member. At 33, it was also mine. The pain never goes away, the sense of loss never leaves me.

She always enjoyed packing her sons' lunches, even when Ryan and I were in high school. Neither of us ever felt embarrassed about it, though. We were happy to have such terrific meals, and their larger meaning was never lost on us. Even our friends understood. We knew it was yet another small sign of just how much we were loved.

Mom often included notes in our lunches, a tradition which Stephanie and I have kept on a daily basis for Malcolm (and for Chloe next year, as she enters kindergarten). Somehow I've managed to keep one of her notes in my wallet for years, and on days like today it means more than she could possibly have imagined when she casually wrote it in that exquisitely beautiful handwriting I am so familiar with.

I miss you terribly, Mom.

Love always,

Peanut.