Family Reunion

Members of the Academy recently attended a family reunion and took some pictures. Set to music here...

BBA Headmaster Family Reunion

See more like this on kontraband.com

(props to www.kontraband.com for this movie)

Do you know me?

The Headmistress is in Germany this week, no doubt brushing up on her interrogation techniques ("Ve haf vays to make you talk"). I only have four days left to get all my stories straight.

The basement dwellers left for the weekend, upstairs occupant had plans, and the boys spent the night at a friend's house. Hm... a night all to myself... HOLY CRAP MAN! Do you realize how much trouble I could have gotten into?! I must be getting really old, 'cuz I just settled in with some warm milk and graham crackers to watch a movie - Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. What a treat! A full feature movie intended for an adult audience, with cuss words and everything! Played at high volume!

I know I've posted this video link before, but I just have to post it again, because it is so cool. First, of course, I love Portishead. But the video features scenes from Eternal Sunshine, and the song is so perfect for it.



Anyway, I must say that for a chick flick, this movie ROCKS! Simply put, its brilliant. I'm a big fan of screenwriter Charlie Kaufman's mind-@#$% style, but this movie rivals his best. Lets review:

Adaptation - in 1998, Susan Orlean wrote a book (The Orchid Thief) about orchid collectors. A true story, her book centered around the life of John Laroche, who'd been convicted of stealing wild orchids from a protected reserve. In the movie Adaptation, Charlie Kaufman (played by Nicolas Cage) tries to adapt the book for the screen, and has problems. Eventually, he turns to his less talented, but far more intrepid twin brother Donald (also played by Cage) for help with the plot. So actually, you're watching a movie about a screenwriter struggling with the script to the movie you're watching. hm... The film wasn't bad, but in the end he painted the plot into such a corner that only a growling, man-eating Florida 'gator could save it.

Being John Malkovich - comic perfection, all rolled up into one crazy, messy package. The movie centers around a secret portal, discovered in a secret "half-floor" sandwiched between two floors of an office building. Craig, a puppeteer, akes a filing job in this low-ceilinged office, and discovers the portal. This attracts the interest of a very sexy colleague. They discover that the portal leads to John Malkovich's head (the actor) - for fifteen minutes, you see, hear, and feel whatever Malkovich is doing. Then, you're ejected out onto the New Jersey Turnpike. Craig's sexy colleague (Katherine Keener) takes the portal commercial, selling trips for $200, but secretly she's more interested in Craig's wife Lotte (Cameron Diaz), but only when Lotte is inside Malkovich. Then, things get wierd. What a GREAT movie.

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind - My personal favorite, mostly because I think director Michael Gondry does a better job with the Kaufman script. In terms of script, pacing and delivery, this plays out like a foreign film without subtitles. The slow pace is helped along by the crude hand-held filming, which adds visual energy. Joel (Jim Carrey) is losing his girlfriend Clementine (Kate Winslet), and discovers she's had an "operation" to have him erased from her memory. Since he can't face life without her, he hires her "doctor" to perform the same operation on him. Most of the movie centers on his operation - drugged and unconscious for the procedure, he has a change of heart and tries desperately to hang on to the memories that are slipping away. In the end, their memories gone, they find each other again. Mark Ruffalo masterfully leads a subplot - the doctor and his employees are using the knowledge they've gained from erasing these memories to seduce the patients.

Anyway, watching this movie, I had this sudden realization that there are people out there who know way too much about me. Let start with the recycling guys. They stand at my curb each Monday for a moment of silence. They gaze up at me over the mountain of discarded alcholic beverage containers, and I can't tell if the open jaws indicate awe or pity. At any rate, I'm sure they can't hear me shouting at them through the window: "HEY! There are TWENTY people living here!!"

So then last week the septic guy comes to pump out my overflowing tank; recently, my neighbors have been getting to know me a little better than they'd like. I wasn't here for the procedure, but the guy left me a note on the front door: "Your tank pumped as good as it could". Man, you think these guys are all beef and brawn, and then they go and leave you a sweet message like that. I felt like going out back and patting my septic tank on its little head.

He called me on the phone to report on the health of my tank, and to offer some tips for improvement. While I valued his advice, he seemed to know too much about what was going on at the Academy. I mean, he actually asked for Diane's Lentil Cake recipe.

So, lesson learned. Consumption is a way of life, and we litter our path with tea leaves for those who care to stop and read them.

The Piano Man

Well Josh finally has the instrument of his future fame and fortune. The kids were so happy they were dancing to the tune of... well, I'm not sure what it was... a creative interpretation of Mary Had a Little Lamb?

How To Lose A Guy In Two Days

The best way I know of is to require hardwood floors before a new piano is delivered, then schedule the delivery two days out.

I have completely lost my mind. I'm a walking zombie. I haven't stopped in 48 hours. Going from 50's era linoleum to finished hardwood floor in two days. What was I thinking?

Unfortunately, I didn't get "before" pictures of the disgusting carpet(decorated by incontinent dogs) or the linoleum that we discovered under it. But I do have "during" and "after" pictures. The finish is boiled linseed oil, if you can believe that. I love the natural wood look and the way it really brings out the grain without being too dark.

Piano? Bring it on baby.


DURING pics






AFTER pics

Talk to the hand...

Its hard to believe that summer is winding down. We have SO enjoyed the pool this year. The boys are finally comfortable in the water, which I didn't think would EVER happen.

Last week the Academy hosted the student bodies of several other area schools, and we swam into the night. Since then, the students of the Academy insist on a night swim.

Fall and Winter are approaching? Ha - talk to the hand...

Slowing down in upstate NY

Every time I come up to Baldwinsville, I'm amazed at how relaxed things are here, compared to life back at the Academy. Things are a little slower, a little less hectic. This morning we went over to Mary's house - ET's friend. It was like taking a step back in some kind of time warp. What an amazing house.

I had to take some shots of the potting shed she and her husband built out back - step through the arbor hand-made of tree branches, and prepare to be amazed. The little details are everywhere, just like in the main house. This is one of my all-time favorite sheds!

Slowing to a crawl

I've been putting off wiring the dining room until it was time to put down the hardwood floor. Suddenly another project rears its ugly head. Under the dining room is a crawl space with less than a foot of clearance. I'd roughed the dining room circuit into that crawl space, but now all the fixture wiring has to snake under there (snake - not a good term to use when talking about a claustrophobic crawl space, is it?). Anyway, I think a diet has now worked its way onto piano critical path - I'm skinny, but I'm not THAT skinny.

You know, I just don't understand the Headmistress. I mean, what's the point of having kids, if its not to use them in crawl space situations? In fact, I think that was my very thought one chilly September night some 8 years and 11 months ago - the excitement of having crawl space help is likely what produced the little extra flourish that brought us not one, but TWO crawl space helpers. And now, eight angst-filled years later, just when its all about to pay off, the Headmistress balks at sending the boys down under the dining room floor. And the boys were no help at all - you'd think they would APPRECIATE having been brought into this world, no matter what the reason. But nooooo... you could actually HEAR the anxiety drain from their bodies when the Headmistress put her foot down on this one. sigh....

So, I was left with only one choice. But the cat ran off before I could catch it, and I had to come up with something else. I now have three rather large holes cut into the dining room floor. Oh sure, now that the wiring is all done, I can't keep the damn cat out of there. If she doesn't come out soon, I'm going to toss the kitty litter box under there, seal it all up and be done with it. But don't tell the Headmistress.


In order to prepare for the floor installation, I also had to take down the hand railing over the basement steps. Sheesh - you'd think our kids were STUPID or something - the Headmistress made me install locks on the dining room doors so the kids couldn't get in there and fall. I mean, all it would take is one fall and they'd learn their lesson - that's my philosophy.


At any rate, the wiring is done, and I've patched the roof - the new roof will be a project for another day. And gawd help the Headmistress if she tries to tell me I can't send the boys up there!

Waiter, there's a piano on my roof

I cannot tell you how fortunate I feel that Sandra Sackett came to our rescue with a piano. I mean, it was bad enough that we had taken that 11th mortgage just to fund the piano lessons. But we figured we'd just pop on over to BJ's and buy that $49 keyboard, and be done with it. So when the piano teacher announced that she "doesn't do keyboards", I just knew we'd be calling our mortgage broker for that 12th mortgage - and we all know how embarrassing that twelfth mortgage can be.

At Monica's suggestion, I posted a plea to Myfamily, et voila - Sandra Sackett answered my prayers. With a beautiful, black baby grand piano. Did I mention its a baby grand?

Anyway, before committing, I tried to hire a piano technician to evaluate the piano. Ha! Just try to get a piano technician these days - they're all on the first tee, talking to their stock brokers on their cell phones. Except Bill Grogan - member of the Piano Guild and an all-around great guy. Its like piano tuning with Mr. Rogers - he calls all his tools by name. When he needs a tool, he says "come on over here Mr. Mute Wedge".

It turns out the piano is in great condition, and the transaction is complete. Now I have to get a piano mover off the first tee to actually move the piano. So far I've phoned three of them, and none has returned the call.

Just as well, since a couple of home improvement projects have worked their way onto critical path for this deal. First, I have to install hardwood floors in what is now the dining room - about to become the piano room. Sandra has gorgeous hardwood floors - I'm thinking that when someone offers to give you their piano, they should really throw in the hardwood floor with it - I mean, they kind of go together, don't you think? Anyway, I've ripped out the disgusting carpet that we somehow managed to overlook for 18 months. The huge spot of mold under it reminded me that there is a gaping hole in the ceiling that we've managed to overlook for 18 months - its right where all that water pours in from the roof every time it rains.

Riiiight.

So now I have to replace my roof before I can install the hardwood flooring. Hm. I wonder if Sandra would mind storing the piano for 18 months while I work on that.

Onondaga Nation

Last week, I went to Syracuse, NY to visit my sister ET, who is fighting the good fight against a very aggressive form of cancer - carcinomatous menengitis, or cancer of the nervous system (spine, brain). She had fought and beaten pancreatic cancer, only to have this come out of nowhere. For more on ET, see www.etjourney.blogspot.com.

ET actually lives in Baldwinsville, NY, just north of Syracuse. Its a beautiful town, simply lovely. Driving along interstate 81, just south of Syracuse, you pass through "Onondaga Nation", which is a reservation for the native American Indians who are indigenous to the area. Entering Onondaga Nation, along Hwy. 81, you see the following billboards:




The sign has a great deal of bad history behind it. Apparently it all started with conflicts over land rights and sovereignty - the Onondaga people believe that a large part of their territory (including what is now Syracuse, NY) was taken illegally, through a series of treaties that were never officially ratified or accepted. Then more recently, the state of NY attempted to tax sales of certain items (gasoline, tobacco, etc) within the Onondage Nation territory. Tribal chiefs made deals with the NYS government (then Gov. George Pataki) that the people claim are invalid because they were not accepted by the people. And since the original "treaties" were with the U.S. government, the people of the Nation do not want to deal with the state of NY. The bottom line is, it appears that a handful of tribal leaders are getting rich off these deals, while much of the Nation lives at poverty level.

In 1997 members of the Six Nations Iroquois Confederacy (Onondaga, Mohawk, Oneida, Cayuga, Seneca and Tuscarora Nations) staged a protest under the sign and were attacked by NYS troopers. Shortly thereafter, the man who owned the property that the sign occupies was murdered in his home - he died of blunt trauma to the head, and his hands were cut off. His son maintains the sign today.

I took a detour on my way back and drove through Onondaga Nation. The poverty in some places was stunning. I guess those bumper stickers are correct - Freedom Ain't Free.

Postscript: There is an excellent and fascinating legal review of the Onondaga case against the State of New York at http://law.bepress.com/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=6147&context=expresso. In particular, Section II: CONFLICTING CONCEPTIONS OF PROPERTY is a fascinating study in Anglo-exceptionalism. This story very closely parallels a book the Academy is reading for 5th-grade history - A People's History of The United States, by Howard Zinn. In it, Zinn debunks the common misconception that indigenous Americans were primitive hunter-gatherers with no political systems and no concept of property - the foundation of John Locke's successful claim against native lands. Zinn points out that in some respects native American concepts of politics and property were far more progressive and advanced than the Anglo- and Franco-settlers. What's also fascinating about the Onondaga legal proceeding is that the Nation does not seek to reclaim their land and evict the settlers. What they want is for the state of New York to take responsibility for forcing the cleanup of toxic waste that has been continually deposited on their lands (especially Lake Onondaga in Syracuse) for more than a century - in other words, they want their land returned to its former healthy and vibrant condition, so that they may renew their connection to their land.

A little pot never hurt anyone...

I've really been getting into pot this past week. I also managed to add some upgrades to my small perennial garden. Eventually, the plan is to have the perennial garden wend its way around the pool, retained by a stone wall. Maybe next year...

Sappy Headmaster

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate - we can not consecrate - we can not hallow - this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us - that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion - that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain - that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom - and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.
I'll be 49 years old this month. Sigh.... Recently the boys asked me if I'd been alive during the Civil War. I had to stop and think for a second.

So while planning some school activities last week, I hatched this great idea to read the Gettysburg Address to the boys. I would begin by laying all the Civil War background over the course of two days, with a goal of reading the actual Gettysburg Address on Wednesday.

Over the course of an hour or so on Monday and Tuesday, I related all the necessary background material, beginning with a definition of slavery and a discussion of all the factors (economic, social, industrial and agricultural) that created such a deep divide over the issue.

On Wednesday, we talked about the battle, and then I read the foreword of an illustrated book of the Gettysburg Address. It provided some of the immediate background material on those most famous 272 words that make up the speech.

Now I must tell you that, for as long as I can remember, I've had a strange connection to the Civil War. There is something very, very emotional about the whole thing for me. I've read countless books (forgetting most of it), and visited the famous battlefields. I remember becoming overwhelmed with emotion while strolling the Gettysburg Battlefield.

And thus, as I turned to the first page of the Gettysburg Address, and attempted to utter the first word - nothing came out. Nothing dry, that is. When the tears began to flow, I got up, and without explanation started into a math discussion.

The worst part is, that after all the buildup over two days, I don't think the boys even knew what happened!

Anyone up for a Civil War Co-Op? You teach my kids Civil War history, and I'll teach your kids math. I promise not to cry. Until we get to the number 49.

Its a jungle in there

A recent conversation reminded me of those dreamy days when the boys were first born. Well, ok, they were anything but dreamy. What I MEANT to say was "those dreamy days LEADING UP TO their birth". I spent 6 months getting the nursery JUST right. I put mid-height Cotton-Tail English Garden wallpaper around the room, and carefully hand-painted the walls above the chair rail to blend with the morning sky on the wallpaper, then faded them to azure blue right up and over the crown molding. I used cotton balls to hand-paint puffy white clouds. sigh...
Matching Cotton-Tail, outdoor-themed cribs, linens, padding, diaper stackers, changing pad covers, throw rugs, ceiling fan, burping towels, window valances, room-darkening shades... the list goes on and on. Late at night in the weeks leading up to delivery, when the house was fast asleep (a quaint condition that was just weeks away from becoming obsolete), I'd sneak into the room, sit in the glider with matching themed cushion and throw blanket, and just take it all in - the sights, the smells. Gawd, those were the days.

Of course, the boys NEVER slept in there. Nope. Nary a stinking, miserable night was spent in there. Oh, I fought the good fight... "WE'RE DONG FERBER! THOSE BOYS ARE GOING TO BE FERBERIZED!"

Riiiiight.

Yeah, I know everyone has their nightmare infant stories. I used to try to one-up those complaining parents - "Oh you think YOU had it bad!" But now its all just a big blur. When new parents complain about how bad they've got it, I just smile and nod my head: "Oh you poor guys!" I prefer to block it all out and think of those nights sitting in the glider, anticipating it all.

Once reality hit in the form of two 7-pound screaming, vomiting, needy, excrementing noise units, I began to formulate other plans for the nursery. Yes, what guy doesn't secretly want to turn the nursery into a drum studio?



Sigh.. those were the days. The drums didn't have a matching Cotton-Tail English Garden print finish, but I think they REALLY made the room.