Aesop's Table

It's the day before my birthday, so I decided to take lunch into E's school and dine with my favorite second graders.  I am fortunate enough to be able to volunteer as a spelling helper with them on some Mondays, and they are an entertaining and friendly bunch.  Today, I had the pleasure of sitting beside a little boy who was really working the charm.  I'll call him "Aesop," because that is how Eliana originally introduced him to me when he joined the class just after the start of the school year.  She explained that his name was like the guy who wrote the fables but that "he wasn't from Africa, just Florida."  She may have inherited my hearing problem.

Aesop immediately staked his claim to my right and took great pride in showing off his lunch tray to me.  He had pepperoni pizza, Cheez-its, and snack mix on his plate.  I asked him where his fruit was, and he instantly vanished, explaining to the room monitor that he "had forgotten his fruit!"  E looked at me quizzically, wondering where her classmate had gone, and I explained that he was off making a healthy choice.  He returned moments later with a fruit cup and yet another bag of snack mix, which he offered to me.  I politely declined. 

He then confided that a girl he has a crush on likes him back.  I agreed that this was exciting news, indeed, and when he pointed out the girl to me from across the room, I paid her a compliment, which delighted him.  We returned to our meal, and then he told me that he actually likes three girls who like him back, and he noted that there were "girls all over him."  I told him that he sounded like a real Romeo, which only confused him, as there is a child in the class named Romeo.  Once he indicated Romeo, and I waved to our mutual friend, seated down the table, I explained that there is a famous play with a romantic character of that name.  He nodded, but I think I lost him.  He told me the names of the girls who reciprocated his appreciation, and I knew none of them.  I said that that was really something, and joked that he should stay away from E, as she needs to focus on her spelling and is not ready for a relationship.  Aesop looked concerned for a moment and then said, "Yes, and I would RELATE." I tried, unsuccessfully, to suppress a cackle.  E then gestured to me to mutter from the side of her mouth, "I think it's too late; he already likes me."  Her face was contorted with disgust, just as a mother would hope.  Aesop didn't hear her, luckily, so we changed the subject to how pizza should be eaten.  Aesop says pepperoni first.

Aesop disappeared from the table again after telling me a joke about a frog with car trouble (he had to be "toad"), this time to purchase a bottle of water.   I imagine his three bags of salty snacks and cured meat were catching up with him.  He was having difficulty opening the bottle, so I offered my assistance.  He accepted my help but asked me "not to tell anyone" I had helped him, which struck me as odd.  I hoped it wasn't budding chauvinism-- his wanting to hide that a woman had bested him at a task requiring strength.  Admittedly, he also could have been asking me not to notice the fourth bag of chips that had suddenly materialized; who knows?  I hope his mother checks his lunch money account every once in a while; this kid is on the road to Lipitor.

All in all, I had an amusing repast with the children, and I know now to look out for Aesop, the ladies' man.  He never did eat that fruit cup.  He just knew how to play.  ...And so it begins...

One year

Hello good and faithful blog followers,

As is the trend, I am writing entries when you least expect them or have given up hope of ever seeing anything from me again.  (If you ever had that hope in the first place.)  I have been thinking of writing to you on this page, but I will spare you the excuses this time around.  Suffice it to say, I have been remiss, and lots of stuff has happened that did not get recorded and will likely be forgotten.  In fact, yesterday, I was going to write to you an amusing/heartwarming account of our first lost pet fish, Blueberry Muffin, who was sadly found crumpled beside the coral in our tank.  Maybe another day...


Some of you may recall that upon moving back to Virginia, I gave up my career in real estate to work with my friends in a variety of capacities at their production company.  This has been a fairly intelligent move on my part.  Well done, me.  One of the reasons that it has been such a good move is that the quality of the people I have befriended who now employ me, is of the highest caliber.  They are really quite generous of spirit.  They are some of the most hospitable people I have ever known.

Currently, I am sitting in a theater space on the campus of West Virginia University, listening to my friend and colleague lead a student orchestra and a gorgeous cello soloist in rehearsal for a memorial concert honoring his piano professor and friend, who was lost to cancer a year ago.  I am on the verge of tears, and not just because the first violins cannot seem to master measure 31.  ...And so, I write, to focus my thoughts and to avoid losing my composure, here in the auditorium, surrounded by young strangers.

I did not know this woman, who so profoundly impacted my friend's musical life; I do not intimately understand the circumstances of her illness and passing; I am simply moved by the gesture of students and colleagues gathering, one year later, to mark her life and contributions to the musical vibrancy of this place.  It is a beautiful thing.  I also know that she must have been some teacher, to have cultivated in her one special student, whom I do happen to know, such discipline and love in his musical career.  I know that, in that way, I have, in fact, been touched by her legacy.  What a gift: to teach and to impact so many, even those on the ripple fringes of your life's work.  This weekend, I will meet more people who did know her well, and that will likely dissolve me into an emotional puddle.

Of course, it is not lost on me that I was raised by educators, and they are advancing in years with their own health challenges.  One day, I will be drying tears over far harder losses than a pet fish that we'd only owned for four days.  I hope that, well before that dreaded day comes, I can honor their legacy and celebrate their gifts to the world.  I hope that I can do that while they are still around to share stories and join the party.  So, to that end, I am resolving to get one of those celebrations on the calendar.  Mom and Dad both have "significant" birthdays next year-- one in May and the other in July.  In the meantime, I'm going to seek memories and stories from those who have been touched, however briefly, by their lives.  And, I am for sure going to tell them every day that I love them so very much.  Then, we will have a party.  There will be music.  There will be happiness. There will be cheese.  I so decree it.