The Summer Knows

Good Morning, Hexlings,

We are on the cusp of a universal school year, yours having begun a week and a half ago, mine beginning today, and the East Coast’s beginning after Labor Day. I begin my school year with a modest letter to you. I have not written to you here since last October, just over a year ago, when I was beginning my PhD program. At that time, I wondered if I might be able to write to you on a regular basis, but teaching three courses and taking three courses a semester taught me that teaching almost-full-time during graduate school makes balancing all of the tasks one must complete difficult. Nevertheless, we did it – I say we did it because it was not just me, alone, working hard: you helped to support me through it by sharing moments with me after school each day. Even the fleeting ones sustained me. Just a little smile or sound from a hexling can re-energize and comfort a mother, apparently! I hope that our time each day, though sometimes limited, helps to comfort you, too.

As we enter these weeks leading into autumn and as we move into the school year, I want to express how extraordinary our summer together turned out to be. I knew it would be that way; having you with me is always an extraordinary experience. We made the most of all of our times together this summer, and above all, we enjoyed being together.

Our summer started out in late May: at your dance recital. You two were a beatific sight on and off stage, and the joy that dancing and being with your friends brings you was palpable. I was fortunate to be able to stay with Jeannie and Dan during the few days that followed so that we could be together before embarking on a summer of travel. After all that, our travel journeys began, and our first destination was, of all things, Cincinnati, Ohio. I had been there once before, briefly, for another academic conference, but this time was special, this time I was with you and we were at the International Conference on Virginia Woolf. Yes, you attended your first academic conference! And you were so patient, gracious, and polite, as I knew you would be. I am a very lucky mama, and it meant to much to me to have you with me at the conference. Academic conferences can be kind of stuffy sometimes, and I think having kids around is a great reminder that life is bigger than what I will call “the academic reality.” Life is reading and writing, and life is also laughing and holding hands and relaxing and laughing some more. An adventure, it is.

We had lots of adventures this summer. Our Woolf Adventure had a few memorable highlights. One was attending panels with you by my sides, feeling excited to have you listen, even in a peripheral kind of way, to stories about Virginia Woolf and her work. Yes, stories. Sometimes panel presentations don’t sound like stories but they are – and sometimes they are snoozy stories (stories that make ya feel like snoozing because the teller is describing something of waning interest to you), but they are stories nonetheless. You picked up on that!

One of my favorite memories was having you at my panel presentation. That was great because of the feedback you gave. Your feedback was hilarious. Sitting in that local joint having lunch after the morning session was so much fun, and you were too funny. I remember writing down the things you were saying. I asked you for feedback – for a critique – of my presentation. I have been told I don’t take criticism well, but I think you’ve adequately taught me to take it well. Your comedic but loving delivery helped. You began by saying you did not understand anything I was saying. You said you could sort of follow and understand what the other two panelists were talking about but that when I was up there speaking, it was just like gibberish to you (and you did an impression of me speaking by speaking in an unknown language that you invented: hdifhiugsfagsdysgdfygyadgysgfygfuygBAaDhdksfhsfkukfsuooueuew). You said it was like I was speaking in another language when I was up there. The exact quote I recorded was: “When you talked, I couldn’t understand anything you were saying. I learned a lot about Virginia Woolf but when you got up there, I was like, ‘what is this?!’” You were really earnest about it, which warmed my heart and made me laugh so hard. I mean, it’s true that I did not plan my talk for a nine and eleven year old, but, at the same time, you made a point about accessibility. My writing is not always accessible to the general public: that is true and a legitimate criticism! That made me laugh so much and was the best part of the whole thing! But then you (I think Elanah, specifically) tried to describe a little of what you thought all of our panel presentations were about, and I was SO impressed because you were able to articulate some of it, and you did so in earnest. That was so endearing, and something my heart will never forget. You: describing something about Virginia Woolf, a name you did not know previously, that you had learned at the Woolf Conference.

You also were able to witness that sometimes academic panels are lightly attended. (It’s a good thing you were there!) You were able to see academic discourse in-action and you were able to see academics in-action: the good, the meh, and the bad. You listened to some stuff and tuned out other stuff: which is what academics do, too. Our visits to the zoo and the butterfly garden were definitely your favorite parts, but I hope you’ll remember it all, at least in an emotional way, because all of it was so special – even our drives back and forth from the hotel in Northern Kentucky to the conference in New Dehli were fun. Having you with me made the conference more fun for me because I had two precious buddies to talk to about things that I liked and that annoyed me at the conference.

And then there was that bloody banquet that I paid $150 for us to attend! Ha! I do not regret attending because I love the idea of attending: however, the reality of attending left something to be desired, we collectively agreed – mainly, in terms of the food options, as they were not, in the least, kid-friendly. I also think people were hesitant to sit near us, which I did not like: I was the LUCKIEST person in that room to sit next to the two of you. It is an unfortunate reality that not all academics are comfortable around children or like having them around at an academic conference, but remember: some are and some do. Like the group of really nice young academics that came to join us. They set a good example for their peers and they were able to carry on conversation about Woolf, academic life, and to include kids in (well, parts of) it. The most fun part of that banquet was deciding to leave, and sometimes life is like that. Virginia Woolf said, “One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well.” This was, alas, Woolf’s own advice that was not taken at the conference, as, though the elements were all there, the food was not very vegetarian-, or even hungry-person-friendly. It was like much of the stuff served at weddings and funerals: ostentatious-but-paltry, costly-but-flavorless. And there were no drinks that were not alcoholic. I could not consume alcohol because I was with you and needed to drive us around and I could not bring myself to order a bottle of something out of a machine when we had paid a heavy price to attend the banquet, and so we drank the warm water. Worst of all was the bloody meat you both tried to eat. I say bloody because: it was. We had a meeting in the bathroom to discuss what we will call “the meat that could not be chewed” – the roast rump you were gnawing on in good faith as it truly deserved the gnawing treatment (and also the barfing treatment). The meat on your plates looked like something from the worst of Dante’s Inferno -like brains falling out of the gnashing lips of the damned- and though I gave a good faith effort when it came to sawing at the hellish slabs of rump for what seemed like the unwelcoming entryway to an everloving eternity, eventually we had to call it quits. I commanded you (Dar) to spit out the hunk of rump into the trash can, I said, “let’s get out of here and go get something to eat,” and we did (so with graciousness, of course, despite our behind the scenes horrified communications).

I received compliments for your behavior from fellow academics, and I want you also to know that you set a good precedent by being there! Perhaps Woolf conferences in the future will be more kid-friendly now that you have been pioneers and created a path for other Woolflings (one friendly person came up to us and commended you for being present at the banquet, and they called ‘Young Woolfians’). Hopefully other polite Woolfies, Woolfites, Woolfettes, Young Woolfians, and Woolflings will attend and be welcome at future Woolf conferences. Someone mentioned this issue at one of the sessions we attended – and suggested that the conference work to be more friendly and accessible to breastfeeding moms and parents with small kids in tow. I was all about it, and proud to have you by my side at all moments! Especially when I locked my keys in the car. We spent a lot of time (maybe two hours) hanging out waiting for the Verizon rescue locksmith, saving potato bugs from certain death, and laughing about the little things while enjoying the lovely greenery on campus.

I’ve said so much about the Woolf conference that I fear I will not have time to say all that should be said about the rest of our magnificent summer. We traveled from Illinois to Ohio to New York back to Illinois back to New York then to Florida then back to New York and then to Illinois. That was our summer trajectory! Whew! I was so glad to be able to attend Nationals with you in (near) Chicago. It was helpful to have Adam with us – especially in the pool (ha, ha), but best of all was being there with you and doing it all with you. The fact that you won a bunch of awards, including first place and second place nationally in your group and solo numbers, was almond topping on the joyous chocolate cake that was seeing you dance your hearts out. You worked SO HARD. And you beamed. And I beamed from inside. There were definitely beams of lights around us but the strongest ones were within us and between us.

We were able to catch The Tempest at Shakespeare in Delaware Park while we were in Buffalo, in addition to having a super fun circus-themed birthday party for Elan and spending lots of time with our family. My favorite Buffalo memory from the summer was the day we spent together in Chautauqua, visiting your great grandpa’s grave, planting flowers by it, dipping our toes together in the lake afterward, going to dinner, and then watching Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban at the Chautauqua Institute. The dining experience at that place on the Lake was absurd and abominable, despite Dar’s enjoyment of the salmon, but the entire experience of being together at Lake Chautauqua was truly magical, on all counts, and, if Heaven exists, Grandpa was surely smiling on us from it. It was as if every step we took that day was on air – and was precious. That pretty much describes our whole summer. No matter what we did, it was fun and delightful because we were happy – happy to be together. In the words of Agnes Gooch (and Auntie Mame): We lived.

Disney. (And the Wizarding World of Harry Potter!) Yes. We did the thing(s). Where all our money goes away as we gulp butter beer and lap up pineapple whip. We did it up royal – literally, having a banquet at the Royal Palace – and fortunately our royal banquet far surpassed our trip to the dregs of Dante’s Inferno in terms of consumer satisfaction. We have hundreds of stories to tell about our trip to the Temple of Flor(id)a – too many for me to recount at this moment but definitely stories we will recount in many of the moments ahead. Also: remember that we call it The Temple of Florida because when I was searching for that big book, The Temple of Flora, at the Missouri Botanical Gardens (the book the two of you found for me), Elanah accidentally called the book The Temple of Florida – which was one of the most brilliant miss-pronunciations ever, in my book! (Psst, on a related note, don’t forget your magical substitution for Hampshire College: Hampster College.)

We love(d) Disney. We lov(ed) Harry Potter World. We loved our Snow Globe Acquisition Adventure. We (love)d Butter Beer (all seven of the butter beers we drank). We (loved) our guard dragon, burning treasury-trespassers to ash. We loved flying through Space Mountain. We loved seeing the fireworks from Thunder Mountain. We loved exploring space and Star Tours. We loved holding hands and wearing cool mission space glasses and being hot and being joyful.

And we loved the beach. Especially being at the beach at night, together, when you were flying those little rockets and I was was on the blanket in the sand. I loved being there together, surrounded by the amber lights, with the bright moon shining over the ocean and in my eyes — and with the gentle waves of your laughter rolling jollily nearby.