02 March 2010
Owen has recently become interested in his lava lamp. Jennifer bought him a small, used lamp at a thrift store. It needed a bulb, but even after I bought one, the lamp just sat on his shelf for months. But lately he’s been keeping it on his nightstand and watching the ‘lava’ as he drifts off to sleep. He also has this contraption that’s sort of like an hourglass, only instead of sand, there’s gel. And instead of an hour, it’s about 10 minutes. He keeps flipping the thing over and over as he’s supposed to be going to sleep.
Well, last night, seeing the relaxing effect slowly moving particles have on my son, I said: “I’m gonna go get you something very special, okay?” He perked his head up, but I told him to lay back down: “I’ll be right back.”
I came back in with my antique hourglass. I turned it over and the sand began trickling down. “This used to belong to my dad’s mom’s dad,” I said. He just stared at me for a second, so I added: “Did you understand that?” He nodded yes, but I decided to clarify: “You know my dad is grandpa from Florida, right?”
Another nod.
“Okay, well this used to belong to his mama – and she got it from her daddy a long time ago.”
“Where did he get it?” Owen asked. This is such an obvious question, but I must confess I’d never thought of it before.
“Well,” I said, “I don’t know. And he died a long time ago, so we can’t ask him anymore, can we?”
“You can ask grandpa from Florida,” Owen suggested.
I told Owen I didn’t think grandpa would know. I didn’t explain all this to Owen, but my Dad never owned the hourglass (its possession went straight from my grandma to me). Owen then suggested we ask my Dad’s mom…which is not a bad idea, since she owned the hourglass for years (decades?) and could possible offer some history behind the object. Only…she won’t have nothing to do with me.
That brings me to today. I kept considering if I should write to my grandma and inquire about the hourglass. A letter, after all, would be far less confrontational than a phone call. She could just chuck the letter in the trash if she wanted to; or she could read it and see there’s nothing in the letter to scar her faith.
An easier solution, I think, would be to call my Dad. I thought of calling him all today. He doesn’t shun me, but I thought it would be weir to call him to ask about something that, normally, I should be able to call my grandma for. Make sense?
Also today: I watched this mini-documentary. This was fascinating. One incredible artist/musician was discussing why he chose to cover a song created by another incredible artist/musician, then that person talks about why they covered a particular song penned by the former. I’ve loved Paul Simon’s “The Boy in the Bubble” for years – but watching this 9 minute video helped me appreciate it in a deeper way.
03 March 2010
Class again today. I had an enjoyable time in class; probably the best I’ve had this semester so far. I turned in my assignment right away, then we read Ethan Coen’s book of short plays Almost an Evening. I volunteered to read a part in each play, ’cause it seemed like the fun thing to do.
Anyway, I’m just not feeling it this semester. I’m not sure if its really the class itself, the late, long class periods – or just life. I’ve never been the ‘traditional’ student (someone who enters college immediately after high school). During every semester I’ve been in college, I’ve always been married and had a job, and I’ve never lived on campus. But school seems to have slipped to a lower priority than ever before. Being sick for 4 weeks didn’t help. Problems with buying a home and needing a new car are chipping away at my attention, too. Did I mention there are lay-offs looming at my job, too? Also, Jennifer and I have a child on the way. All this tends to make me relegate school to a lower position on the priority pole than is probably recommended by college advisers.