creating a history of violence

Overturning a similar decision in Indianapolis, Federal Court of Appeals Judge Richard Posner noted: "Violence has always been and remains a central interest of humankind and a recurrent, even obsessive theme of culture both high and low. It engages the interest of children from an early age, as anyone familiar with the classic fairy tales collected by Grimm, Andersen, and Perrault are aware." Posner adds, "To shield children right up to the age of 18 from exposure to violent descriptions and images would not only be quixotic, but deforming; it would leave them unequipped to cope with the world as we know it."

http://www.collegeotr.com/college_otr/mit_professor_debunks_eight_myths_about_video_games_10944

Parental Rejection

The Author posed the question about a person who was becoming more reclusive and socially/emotionally strange:

"...Where was the trusted person who could tell him it wasn’t a good idea, ..."

I would also ask:

Who benefited from his bad choices?
I wish I could recall which novel I read, but a central point was that a powerful figure is manipulated to the benefit of another via his bad choices.

Of course, if you don't trust anyone, it's hard to benefit from their loving/unloving advice.

Sometimes it's easier to not give advice. My older son is old enough to really resent some of my edicts (chocolate chex is the current issue). It would be soooo easy to just cave in & buy a box to get him off my case. He doesn't know enough about life to understand either my reasoning or understand the idea that he needs to trust someone else's reasoning. Many parents want to be loved by their children without realizing this is *not* synonymous with being liked by one's progeny. They cave in in order to be 'liked'.

I can easily see someone else with a weak personal security wanting to give Jackson good advice and fearing to do so, in fear of losing his good opinion. Which rejection, in an adult, easily transmits to losing personal contact.

Becoming a parent has drastically enlightened me into the idea of seeing God as a parental figure. Christianity (at least my flavor of it) teaches that God is all loving; that you cannot make God stop loving you; that Her love is always there. I struggle to recall this when I have to deal with my own children.

People find themselves in such a totally screwed up point in their lives that they cannot believe that God could still love them. They then refuse to ask for God's help, fearing an active rejection without realizing there won't be any. A real parent, admittedly, is far more likely to reject a child. Even if they weren't, the child could easily fear rejection so much that they never ask for help.

The same applies to adults. Perhaps Jackson realized how totally screwed up his life had become and feared the loss of public/friends approval, so he didn't change his path. It's better to screw up your life than to realize the decision you made to fix it actually resulted in losing your friends, even if your life is otherwise better for the change you made.

I can look at my parents (and spouse now), and realize that they may not always like my decisions or my choices. My parents probably care just as much about me loving them as they always did. Me being an adult doesn't change that (I hope). I will always desire my children's love. Consequently, I need to take the risk of them disliking me or even [esp. in adolescence] rejecting me.

Book of Mercy [review]

Psalm 33
You who question souls, and you to whom souls must answer, do not cut off the soul of my son on my account. Let the strength of his childhood lead him to you, and the joy of his body stand him upright in your eyes. May he discern my prayer for him, and to whom it is uttered, and in what shame. I received the living waters and I held them in a stagnant pool. I was taught but I did not teach. I was loved but I did not love. I weakened the name that spoke me, and I chased the light with my own understanding. Whisper in his ear. Direct him to a place of learning. Illuminate his child's belief in mightiness. Rescue him from those who want him with no soul, who have their channels in the bedrooms of the rich and poor, to draw the children into death. Let him see me coming back. Allow us to bring forth our souls together to make a place for your name. If I am too late, redeem my yearning in his heart, bless him with a soul that remembers you, that he may uncover it with careful husbandry. They who wish to devour him have grown powerful on my idleness. They have a number for him, and a chain. Let him see them withered in the light of your name. Let him see their dead kingdom from the mountain of your word. Stand him up upon his soul, bless him with the truth of manhood.

Book of Mercy, Leonard Cohen, Villard Books, NY 1984.
yes, that Cohen.

Written without a pause, without a break, without artistic & artificial separations one sees in the visual presentation of poetry, this pushes, his words driving in passion, giving you no opportunity to emphasize one thing over another.

These psalms absolutely must be read slowly. Cohen's music and lyrics are powerful, often presented in an extremely blunt style in his recorded music. (you gave me head/on the made bed) These poems are straightforward, direct, but not blunt. From an extremely talented user of the English language, each sentence should be considered carefully.

As one would imagine from the title, the majority revolve around Mercy, seeking or seeing God's mercy in the various aspects of Life. I wish I could include some of the others** which were poignantly moving for me, except you'd likely get bored.

The psalms in the Old Testament are poetry. Some are exquisite in pain (Ps. 22) or overwhelming in joy (Ps. 118) comforting in their traditional use (Ps. 23) or just nice (Ps. 150). I have a psalter (book of psalms) which is translated from Hebrew into modern poetry.* Here, Cohen has simply written his own. These are not renditions of biblical passages from the King of the Israelites or some other dead Jewish guy 2100 years ago; they are cries from a man today, which might not be in print in another couple millenia. Although if they were, they would cry out, appealing to man's soul and God's Mercy.

Gopher rating:
2 - definitely buy a copy, you'll read it more than once.


*I'm not at home, so I can't cite it.



** Why not? Copyright allows me to present material for purposes of criticism. So, from my lips to God's ears:
Psalm 40
Let me not pretend you are with me, when you are not with me. Let me close down, let the puppet fall amoug the strings, until, by your mercy, he rises as a man. Let him dare to call on you from the dust, when there is nothing but dust, and the coils of his defeat. Enter me again into the judgment, I who refuse to be judged. Enter me into the mercy, I who have forgotten mercy. Let me raise your kingdom to the beauty of your name. Who do you welcome me? asks the bitter heart. Why do you comfort me? asks the heart that is not broken enough. Let him lie among the strings until there is no hope for his daily strategy, until he cries, I am yours, I am your creature. Then the surface of the world is restored, then he can walk and build a will. Blessed are you whose blessings are discerned by those who know your name. The evil are seen clearly, and the good are beyond safety, and in the panic the whole world prays. Let us not be tested. Blessed are you who creates and destroys, who sits in judgment on numberless worlds, who judges the present with mercy.

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photos - past 6 mo. or so

Good Afternoon, everyone!

So I've been slow on the uptake. Or at least up load. Photos from the past 6 months or so. From last Summer's vacation to Michigan to late autumn. I'll try to get the Christmas/New Years/Birthday photos. When the German School posts the pictures from last Friday's school performances, I'll post a link there, as well. Of course, if they have a video of the 1st Grade singing a ditty about boogers [ein Popel ein Popel ...] I'll link to that, too. I could tell which parents in the audience spoke German based upon where the laughter was.

Michigan:
























We got some up-close and personal exposure to the birds at Potter Park Zoo in Lansing


















One of Jr.Gopher#2 favorite stuffed animals is a llama; he finally got to see a real one in person.


















Beale Gardens at Michigan State University


















The hat was to hide my horrible self-inflicted hair-do. The ferret was just to make the boys laugh.


















Here in Mpls, Fall 2010

Not 100% discernible, but the silver thing behind his head is a duct-taped mummified water fountain.


















No, you really don't want to be giving him a license yet.


















Near where the Minnehaha Falls flow into the Mississippi River


















The Minnesota River flooded this year, a bit higher than usual. The submerged trail here is normally a mile from the river bank. To imagine the amount of water involved, consider that it is pretty flat out here. Someone mentioned the excess water flow in the millions of gallons. Too bad BP didn't schedule the gulf oil spill a bit earlier - this could have flushed it all away from the shore.





















Halloween 2010

Lufthansa Flight 596 en route to Dusseldorf departing from Minneapolis-St.Paul International Airport, we'll be flying with the plane named after Gladbeck. Yes there is one, and we've flown on it.























Jr.Gopher#2's rocket ship required registry with some nation. But he refused to put BRD or USA on it. I am glad, however, to have avoided hand cramps since he didn't want "Deutschland", either: the other side of the costume reads "Germany" with its flag.

























Near Mississippi River, Autumn 2010

Playground























The Minnehaha Falls are somehow more impressive when they're frozen. I should find a Summer vs. Winter photo pair.

















Walking w/ Papa

















earlier section of trail


















Computer Engineering & Game Design 101
Jr.Gopher#1 decided to build his own laptop, since I wouldn't let him play games on mine. This also required, of course, designing his own games to go with them. He insisted on the keyboard layout, since - as he informed me - he was perfectly well aware of the fact that B, and not S, comes after A.



















Jr.Gopher#1 and I took in an ice hockey game: U of M vs. U of M. [The photo is Goldy the Gopher on the ice.] After the debacle of his emotional melt-down at the state soccer championship game, when we randomly picked the team geographically closest to S. Mpls to cheer for, "our team" lost 0-3, I convinced him we could cheer for both teams, since he was born in Michigan, and I am going to school a Minnesota. Luckily, U Minn beat U Mich 5-3. It was the first time I've seen someone get a 10 min. penalty, too. Double luckily, it didn't occur to him to ask why grown-ups who break into fist fights and hit each other with sticks only get a 2 min. time out, whereas he gets 6 min.

oh, them!

Jr.Gopher#1 was speaking with his phys. ed. teacher last Friday. I caught part of the conversation:

PE teacher: ... you like Gopher Sports and ice hockey.

PE teacher: Who do you think is going to win the game this weekend?

Jr.G #1: huh?

PE teacher: The big game this weekend - who are you cheering for?

Jr.G #1: huh?

Me to teacher: No one in our family follows American football.

Jr.G #1: oh! football!

PE teacher holds out her hand with her nails painted green & yellow.

PE teacher: Whose colors are these?

Jr.G #1: Brazil

Scales & arpeggios

My 6-year old currently struggles to read, letter-by-letter. Consequently, he doesn't get the emotional impact of the text. Whereas, I can just let the letters pass and I get it. I found an analogy to music.

When I first learned to play an instrument (piano), it made sense to me as an 8-year old that one would somehow need to provide directions, i.e., the written music - probably not intuitively, afterall I'd spent my whole life seeing my mom play the piano. I could read words by that time, but learning to read music proved very difficult, to get both the bass & treble clef going at the same time. It was (and to a great extent still is) like reading two different books at the exact same time.

Later in life, when I finally pursued wind instruments, and fell in love with music as a hobbyist musician, I finally learned to read music, not just notes.

The same child has recently fallen in love with playing on my electric keyboard (a residual tool from singing in a choir and struggling to overcome hearing my own voice on/off pitch). The other day, while he was playing around with it, I reached over and started playing a scale while concurrently singing it. He was astonished, but promptly remembered the scene in The Aristocats, where one of the kittens is practicing singing her "scales and arpeggios" while the mom-cat plays the piano.

So far, Jr.Gopher#1 seems much more fluent reading in German than English. I think I'll need to check the availability of more German-language kids books to entice him to enjoy reading. Unfortunately, all of the sources for them domestically are really expensive - - and the trans-Atlantic shipping prices from amazon.de are horrifically high since they don't do surface shipping. I guess I'll need to ship it free deutsche-domestically to OmaGopher and have her ship it to us cheaply. sigh ...
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Parenting 202

Thank you for the kind words. I spent so much time (time = $) seeing a shrink; I want my children to avoid repeating the process. I learned so much from that experience that has made it easier to deal with the rest of the world. One part of which is respecting another's boundaries.

"What's wrong?" sounds nice and considerate, but it isn't. There's no simple way of refusing to answer without sounding like you're rejecting the person's care for you. "Can I help you?" or even better, "Do you need help?" are easily answered with yes or no. If someone is that distraught, they're probably already at the point of monosyllabic answers. Last night I was talking to someone, who I noticed is more stressed out than usual. I care about this person and want them to be less stressed. Will demanding "what's wrong?" reduce the stress? No. Better question: "Do you know what's bothering you?" My next sentence is going to vary dramatically depending on whether his answer is yes or no. I try to apply this to the Jr.Gophers, to respect their feelings.

Additionally, I try to get them to express their emotions, something others aren't very in-tune with. I've tried to find a way to tell them how I'm feeling when they really, really piss me off. But i want them to have some gradation in this. I don't want them to think there is an on/off switch - Mom's angry or she's not. I had to deal with this with my mom's boyfriend, who singlehandedly contributed to a large amount of stupid shit hanging like an albatross around my psyche. I try to let them have free rein to tell me that they're angry with me (or anything else). Or tell them "you're starting to aggravate me". So, don't be surprised if you hear Gregor use that word - I heard it last week. "mama, you're aggravating me". It took so much effort to keep a straight face while asking him why.

Rather than paint Life as right and wrong (which, yes, DO exist), I try to leave that to morality or ethics, and not apply that black & white polarity to things like table manners or other mundanity which are categorized as rude/polite or appropriate/inappropriate.

One of the things I heard which drives the point home about expectations we have of children: seriously, he's only 3 years old! Now, just keep adding a year to this as he grows up. We don't often stop and consider that our expectations of children shouldn't be the same. This approach should segue into assessing our expectations for adults as individuals, rather than en mass.

Man, it gets so frustrating hearing a child ask you the EXACT SAME QUESTION repeatedly. Not just a few times in one day, but without any other communication in between.
Where are we going? Michigan. Where are we going? Michigan. Where are we going? Michigan. Where are we going? Michigan. Where are we going? Michigan. Where are we going? Michigan. Where are we going? Michigan. Where are we going? Michigan. Where are we going? Michigan. Where are we going? Michigan. Where are we going? Michigan. Where are we going? Michigan. Where are we going? Michigan. Where are we going? Michigan. Where are we going? Michigan. Where are we going? Michigan. Where are we going? Michigan. Where are we going? Michigan. Where are we going? Michigan. Where are we going? Michigan. Where are we going? Norway. ... no we're not, Mom!

Right around the 3rd answer, I have to keep telling my self "does it really matter how many times I give him the same answer? Really, is it going to kill me to say "Michigan" 40 times?" The answer to *that* question is obviously, no. So, I might as well do it. It's just that after the 10th or 15th time, when I'm SOOOOO bored, I occasionally resort to changing the answer in a radically different way. Inevitably, he notices and laughs.

Keep asking yourself "Does this REALLY matter?" no matter what the situation is.

Ask yourself: Do I ABSOLUTELY NEED to say anything? Quite often the answer to this ought to be no. Hell, you're not even obliged to answer anthing to the police or the judicial system. Why feel that way socially? e.g.

Person #1: I hate your shirt.
I am likely to say nothing, and get on with my life. So she hates it? So what? What would I get by disagreeing with a personal opinion? Not to mention, this isn't a question and grammatically requires no response.

Person #1: Do you know your opinion is wrong/stupid/etc?
This is a question, but so what? You're not obliged to answer it, are you? If you're not obliged to, why give yourself the stress of interacting with this person at all? Ignore her completely. Are you obliged to interact with someone who's rude to you? No! We too often feel we must respond to someone just because the spoke to us. Boy, that took a long time to realize. Of course, the response to their question can always be your own:

Person #1: Do you know you look like a dyke with that hair cut?
You: Did you know you're a rude asshole who's interrupting my lunch? Go away.

I try to treat the boys the same way I want to be treated, or the way that I want them to treat other people. I lose my temper occasionally; no, I'm far from a saint. It's given me practice dealing with inveterate assholes in the Adult World, too.

"That Is Totally Inappropriate" can usually be substituted for "Go Fuck Your Self" without adversely effecting one's professional status. I have yet to experience an occupational situation where the latter was really called for, although I can imagine one or two where I might. And I actually contemplated it once.

Yes, I can look at my parents and think "what in the name of all that's holy were you thinking?" just as much as I know both of my children could say the same thing in 40 years, God willing I'm still alive to hear it.

My mission statement about parenting:
I want my children to grow up to be men who are capable of loving themselves and loving others.
Anything else is just icing on the cake.

Really, what else is truly necessary in life? Being self-sufficient? Self-sufficiency is an American Myth and doesn't exist. Why brainwash my children to seek something that doesn't exist? Literacy, monetary wealth, children of their own, their own home, ... ?? How will those make you a better human being?

If there is anything else that you can point at and say "You failed as a mother because your son can't _____", be prepared to be told your opinion is inappropriate.

[def.] Success

My mission statement about parenting:

I want my children to grow up to be men who are capable of loving themselves and loving others. Anything else is just icing on the cake.

Really, what else is truly necessary in life?

Being self-sufficient? Self-sufficiency is an American Myth. Why brainwash my children to seek something that doesn't exist?

Being educated? That's nice, but if they have a 6th grade education, what bearing will that have on Life? Sure, they won't be a nuclear physicist, but so what? It will be harder to get a high-paying job ... but is that critical to having a Good Life?

Yes,
I want them to have relationships with people which are fulfilling;
I want them to have a good education;
I want them to have hobbies which they enjoy;
I want them to be able to put a roof over their head and food on the table;
I want them to be able to travel the world and appreciate it in all of its glory;
I want many things.
But you know what ... I cannot control any of that.

I can't make any of that happen. So why should my relationship with my children revolve around whether or not those things occur? Will any of those things mean I'm a good mother? No. Will any one say, "Your child failed out of college, therefore you suck as a parent!" I suppose. Not more than once in my presence, though. "Your child just isn't capable of having a meaningful, healthy relationship with other people." Now that I will consider to be the death knell of my maternal efforts.

Reminding myself of this mantra is a key function to reducing parenting-ability stress. So he's not reading up to grade level? Well, yes, let's fix that. But there is only so much I can do about it. Why give myself unending stress about being a Bad Parent only to discover he has an inherent reading disability?

Can you Do Anything About It? if not, get over it. Get help, if necessary, but get over it. Get over it and get on with making sure they grow up to be loving people.

Pirates don't change diapers

Pirates don't change diapers: found on a child's daily vocabulary workbook. On a page with no other word or writing.

JrGopher#1: (summarized for clarity) I want to be in the high school upstairs because they have chocolate milk for lunch & we only have 2% and skim.

Dancing

JrGopher#2 loves to dance. The other night both of the boys were shakin' their booties. We were looking at clips of Fantasia 2000 on YouTube.

We ran across a rendition of The Lion Sleeps Tonight: I started my hand moving in rhythm to the music - as one of the animated characters was. Jr.#2 promptly started doing the same thing. Not just mindlessly copying, like babys, but an enthusiastic joy. Jr.Gopher#1 was having much more fun mimicking the dog at about 0:24 min. Both boys were singing along as well.

Alas, our camera is broken.

Drugs vs. Reading good books

Hennepin County Sheriff's Office is implementing a new program within DARE (drug abuse resistance education - btw have I mentioned how annoying I find cutesy acronyms?). I'm glad they're being creative about personnel resources. I know it's been around a while, but I don't know if it's really been demonstrated to be effective. Given the teenage drinking rate is chronically increasing, I'm not sure if it's so worthwhile.

Drugs & alcohol are some of the few things that worry me about being a parent ... I cannot remember ever being even vaguely interested in trying anything. Alcohol was always an ordinary part of life: I've never seen either of my parents intoxicated. Albeit, this is no doubt part of a child's perception of things - - but still, being intoxicated was always seen as something stupid, just as doing drugs was seen as something stupid.

Yet, I never got any peer pressure to do either. My high-school classmates drank - yet the rebellious aspect always seemed to be the simple "look at what I can get away with". Getting drunk didn't seem to be the goal. Admittedly, since I was never part of the social circles, this is a perception from outside.

Still, both of my parents smoked, and I was also never tempted to smoke either. I didn't see it as bad or good, just something that seemed like "mom and dad do it". Unlike drinking, which I assumed all adults did, smoking seemed to be more of a personal choice.

My brothers & I got wine at the big holiday dinners (Thanksgiving, Christmas & Easter) - just a little bit. I think I was 12 the first time I did. I distinctly remember it, since it seemed to be such a big deal.

I once wondered if being Roman Catholic might make drinking less of a mystery. We normally let children take communion when they're around 9 or 10 and we use real wine. Never the less, I'm sure Catholics are just as likely to drink underage as any other group, so my assumption is likely empty. (let's not even get into what 'underage' is or ought to be)

There are so many things that are critical to a child having a healthy, well-adjusted life, e.g. reading, respecting others, personal faith. In the grand scale of things, I'm more worried about the boys avoiding the life-destroying activities (drugs/teenage sex) than whether they read at age 5 or 6. Yet, I can influence the reading far more than the others.

Our Forefathers

You don't need to be a member of any specific political party to realize that our government is and has been for some time spending money just they way that the voters have been letting them.

It is our duty as Citizens to tell our representative what we want.

As Citizens, it is our civic duty to vote them out of office if they don't do it!

Our civic duty demands we risk of voting for what we want, rather than for a label. Too many people vote for a party rather than the candidate.

The Two Party system has the average person over a barrel. We fear voting for something else, which results in our representatives not bothering to vote Our Way. They don't need to! They realize that, once in office, they need never fear their own party ousting them.

If you’re dissatisfied with the current representation, find someone else to put on the ballot. Protesting in the streets is only as effective as its 30-sec sound bite before the sports & weather. Hit the streets and work for it.

Your voice only truly works at the ballot box. This is the ultimate place where you have the power to negate all of the obscene electioneering money.

It is our Civic Duty to be include the rest of America in our political decisions. Ourselves and our children. On Independence Day, we reverently read: “... Our forefathers brought forth onto this continent ...”

Each political decision should consider: "What kind of forefathers will this make us?"

What kids hear

From Jr.Gopher#2 daycare:

I mentioned the other day that Jr.Gopher was mad because we were leaving
the zoo and still hadn't gone on the "green elevator". I had said
grain elevator.

Yesterday I told the kids we were going to Washburn library instead of
E. Lake. When we were leaving the library he kept asking, "Now are we
going to the wash (carwash)? When are we going to the wash?"

The Surreal

Certain moments of my life stand out beyond easy description. Moments of joy, sorrow, beauty, dispair. The day Peter & I decided to marry. The day I decided to get divorced. The view from the top of the Grand Tetons. The view from the central court yard at Dachau.

During our last visit to Germany, we spent some tourist-time in Berlin. It was a pleasant opportunity for our friends to see things they normally wouldn’t (Pergamon Museum) or or hadn’t (Hohenschönhausen).

This last location is a notorious Stasi prison. It was the one location where I didn’t feel as though I was imposing my tourist wishes, since none of our group had been there before. It had recently opened to the public. This is like Dick Chayney’s house: it was never put on any maps, and no one publically acknowledged it. Yet - if the Stasi took you away in the middle of the night ... this is where you’d arrive.

At the time, Michael was 3-1/2 and Gregor was 6 months old. About 10 minutes into the tour (conducted in German), Michael couldn’t keep still. This isn’t Neuschwannstein, where my tolerance for pediatric noise would have been much higher.

So, I was the obvious choice (not my country's heritage; heavy Berlin accent) to depart with the boys. I apologized to the tour guide, and left.

Surreal point #1: walking through an infamous Stasi prison alone. Hoping I wouldn’t get lost on the way back to the entrance. My 2 small children were the only sound. I even stopped and listened ... not a sound.

I took the boys out to the visitor’s center to wait for our friends & Peter.

It was a broiling 90-95 degrees, humid, and painfully bright sunshine. There was no water (Germany=no water fountains). Every single thing in the visitor center/shop was in German (no English=no distraction). Michael wanted water. Michael wanted food. Michael wanted Papa. Gregor wanted to eat; that at least I could accommodate.

The center of the prison was this sun-parched area with not a single living thing, other than my children & me. It was 15 minutes past when I expected our group. It was 20 minutes past.

What should I do? my mind wailed. I was bored out of my skull. There was nothing to do. I was physically miserable. I was sitting in the middle of some god-awful prison. I couldn't get out since I had no car keys. I was sitting in the middle of a gigantic memorial to human misery.

It really is difficult to keep in mind the suffering of others when you're miserable yourself. Afterall, my family knew where I was; no one was going to take me back into the cells and torture me; I wasn't worried about dying. It wasn't surreal, but it was an unpleasant personal epiphany that I couldn't put aside my own discomfort, comparing it to the suffering of others. I'd like to think I could have, if confronted with the reality of it in front of my face. I'd like to ...

All Michael wanted was to run around and play.

I’m not German. I’m a tourist. This can't possibly have the emotional impact for me that it might have for my husband and friends. God help me, I’m an American tourist; not a group generally renowned for its cultural sensitivity. How could I explain to a 3 year old that this was an important part of his history as a German? (This was the first time I ever sincerely considered the fact that my child is also not-American.)

I was so bored and trying to be respectful of this place that is really serious. I finally lost my mind & told Michael that he was welcome to run around all he wanted, as long as I could see him. It's not as if he could have hidden in that wasteland of broiling sunshine. I decided that if anyone complained about it, I would inform them in no uncertain terms that they would just have to put up with it until the tour was over. As part of this plan, I decided to keep open the option of breaking down into tears. It worked once with Lufthansa staff in Frankfurt.

Finally Michael was happy; hot, but happy. Gregor was asleep. I was sitting on the steps inside a prison and wishing it was under 80 degrees.

The small building sitting in the interior of the prison opened, and an older man stepped out. As he strode across the courtyard toward me, I braced myself. He looked at Michael and offered a very paternal smile. He asked if Michael was bored, offering his sympathy when I said we were waiting for my husband & the tour. He smiled again as he passed by.

Surreal point #2: Sitting inside a Stasi interrogation/detention prison watching my 3 year old son running around laughing in total enjoyment on a sunny Summer afternoon.

A Night of Music - and what a night it was ...

Our friend, Dr.Nuke - a.k.a. Joachim - was the first person I ever met named Joachim. Not so surprising, since I'm American. Now I can't seem to get away from them. Some child who attends the same after-school group with Jr.Gopher#1 has a father named Joachim. I often see the last name before mine is Joachim-something. Some artwork I admired was from some other German guy named Joachim. And now, Joachim Neugart, the conductor for the Neuss Chamber Orchestra/Kammerorchestra.

He (and they) performed last night at the Germanic-American Institute in St. Paul. We attended. All 4 of us.

The St. Paul German-immersion pre-school is located on the property; the Institute opened it for the evening to allow parents like us to be able to attend something spiffy and not hire a baby sitter. Not really out of any warm-fuzzy hearted feelings, but more since some of the German School's students were performing, and in order to get *their* parents to come, some incentivization was required.

The Jr. Gophers had the opportunity to attend something cultural that children generally don't - the evening chamber orchestra with hors d'oeuvres and getting 'dressed up'. The evening started right about when we're usually telling the boys to put on their pyjamas. This was Michael's first exposure to life classical music, not just the radio in Papa's car.

Gregor departed fairly early to the child-care group. After winning the hearts and minds of every woman over the age of 50, i.e., most of the women there. He looked really handsome (sweetly adorable) in a white oxford shirt & slacks. I, on the other hand, took the opportunity again to wear my new elegant high heels, even if I'm quite certain none of these women noticed.

Michael lasted through the first piece: two movements from Haydn's Symphony No. 1 in D; his attention disappeared during something in Hawai'ian by a local choral group. He then went out to the children's enclave.

Peter & I had a lovely evening listening to lovely music - okay, so I liked Holst better and Peter liked Haydn. The conductor made a point that the St. Paul's Suite wasn't written for anyone in Minnesota.

The program was called "Ein Nacht voller Muzik" A night full of music ... Yes, opening at the GAI with
Twin Cities' German Immersion School student string group
Neuss City Chamber Orchestra playing Haydn (Symp. 1 D) & Holst (St. Paul Suite),
Rose Ensemble singing in Hawai'ian,
the chamber orchestra again, playing with the school children
and then in the car on the way home The Wailin' Jennies: Water from a Deeper Well
while Gregor belted out "Laterne Laterne Sonne Mond und Sterne, brenne ...." (currently his favorite song), then the boys wanted for bed-time songs the ABC-song, and Froggie went a-courtin'.

Let's hear it for eclectic music.


On the ride home, we asked Michael what his favorite part of the evening was, if he enjoyed the (grown up) musicians. He said yes, in a rather non-assertive manner, and then waxed poetic about the huge pretzels ...



Saturday's bed time lights out was 10 p.m. Central Standard time, or rather 11 p.m. Central Daylight Savings' Time.
Ein Morgen(morning) voller Muzik was neither advertised nor occurred. The Tobias men stayed in bed this morning while the Tobias woman went to St. Albert's and did *not* listen to music; unless you consider the wailin' 15-mo. old boy's 45 min cry to be music. It was our turn for during-Mass-child-care. At least one person from the German school noted that someone failed to consider Daylight Savings switch as part of the children's schedule. Although, serendipitously, the wailing boy's parents tried to buy tickets to the GAI concert, which was sold out... Maybe if they'd gone, the boy would have been home in bed, like mine.

Let it snow, let it snow

... let it snow somewhere else.



The Gang out back on Tuesday

my little capitalist

Jr.Gopher#1 asked me the other day if he could get 50 cents out of his piggy bank. Of course, I asked why. He wanted to buy a paper airplane. I said no, thinking that a rather exorbitant price, and reminded him of what he's saving his money for (a Mac the Truck from Cars). I mention it to his teacher, just as a point of amusement. She laughed, and told me the Rest of the Story ...

Jr.Gopher#1 and one of the girls were selling paper airplanes for 50 cents; or rather were trying to sell them to the other students. Who didn't have that sort of cash. Milk money is 35 cents.

Monday I picked him up & found some rather pretty paper airplanes in his stack of papers-to-take-home. Definitely worth at least 5 cents, maybe 10.

Pond Hockey, pt. 2

Yes, we made it there. No, we almost didn't make it back. It was sooooo wet; being about 32 degrees, the rain was thick. Not thick as in #drops per cubic foot of air, but rather the #pounds per drop pounding on the side of one's face. The precipitation bordered between rain, snow & sleet. Once it hit the ground though, it was just wet. The boys & I attended the US Pond Hockey Championships today @ Lake Nokomis, in south Minneapolis. Not wanting to deal with cramped parking & icky weather, we took the bus. The best route stops on the other side of the block we live on; and the walk wasn't so bad on the hockey end. On the way home, however, ... ... ... Jr.Gopher#2 was just whooped. It's a really long walk for really short legs.

Strangely, the amount of ice on the sidewalks seems to be related to the general income/neighborhood. The poor people up closer to Lake Street, just north of us, don't seem to shovel their sidewalks nearly well enough. Once you head south into our part of the neighborhood, the sidewalks are nice & clear. Further south (read: increased per capita income), they become impassable. Not just a little bit of ice, but the "I haven't gotten off my Viking-cheering-potato-derriere to shovel my sidewalk because the path between the door & the SUV is just fine" kind of ice.

Route 14, south bound, heading down Bloomington Ave. towards Lake Nokomis (sort of).











Jr.Gopher#2 forgot his scarf. Suffering for one's progeny; man, my ears were cold.



















This, boys, is the great northern sport. On ice. Well, actually today on slush.



















It's too cold; Jr.Gopher#2 just isn't quite getting into the spirit of things.















Each team is required to show up with two different jerseys: light and dark. No one said it had to be unique. (The white jerseys with the green N are the now defunct NHL Minnesota North Stars.)










This is the only good shot I got of the goal. Yes, that box on the ice is the goal. It is basically a wooden box about 2 x 4 feet and 6" high with two holes in the front of it. Now that takes skill (a.k.a. luck)!






Sledge Hockey was also being played. I've never seen this before. A nice fellow showed the boys the different sticks & how the sledge works. Now these are the people I felt sorry for ... with so much water on the ice, they are already only 5" or so above it anyway. With 2" water at one end, they are going to have really wet pants at the end of the game.
The were also the only group I noticed with mixed gender and ages. There was at least one woman in the game we watched, and the age group on the ice went from 30-something to one boy about 14 or so.


The carrot at the end of the stick this afternoon was hot chocolate at May Day Cafe. My favorite hangout. The best coffee in Minneapolis, btw. Tell them I sent you; they won't give you a discount, but they will be nice to you. Well, they'll be nice anyway as long as you don't wear an "I Love Bush" t-shirt.


Jr.Gopher#1 took this photo. I returned the favor & took this one:














I'm not sure how the odd lighting happened; it was a flash picture & there wasn't anything reflecting that should have caused it ...?

The Purity of Hockey

Lake Nokomis, just south of where we live, I assume either this morning or last year. Those are 25 ice rinks (

U.S. Pond Hockey Championships:
Get excited for hockey the way nature intended! Last year it was minus 20 degrees. This year it's mixed precipitation. Only Mother Nature knows who will win the Golden Shovel!

The boys & I are going tomorrow. Who needs the Wild?

While perusing the team names, there's
the expected: Mother Pukers
the befuddeled: Angry Chickens
the amusing: Frozen Pond Scum -- Zamboni Drivers -- Frozen Assets
The prognosticatory: Runners Up

The teams had an opportunity to describe themselves. For example:

• Six oldtimers from Grimsby Ontario Canada looking forward to some good old American hospitality. Hell we might even bring some of our beer to share with you fellas.
• Somebody told us that, win or lose, everyone in the 40+ division gets a free one-year supply of Guinness. So we've got that going for us, which is nice.

There's only 6 teams in the women's division. Surprising, given how many girls'/women's teams there are these days, especially high school teams here in Minn.

I have a totally irrational fear of skating on natural ice. Seriously. Total fear of falling through. Now ... look at the photo at the top. Look at the sheer number of people. They're not afraid... The ice is probably a foot thick ... you can drive your pick up out on to Lake Calhoun to set up your shanty ... They certainly use trucks to put the rink boards up ... right? I keep telling myself that it will be okay to let the boys out on the ice tomorrow. It's not going to collapse... right? ...

I have no idea which games we're going to see: Men's, Women's or Kids. We're just going to go. I might, however, need to find the bus schedule & $1.75, because as we drove by this evening from picking up Jr.Gopher#2, the parking lot @ Lk Nokomis was still packed. The tons of snow still lying all of the city have eliminated at least 10% of the parking spots, too. I'll try to call Lawyers A & B to see if they want to bring their kids, too.

Updates & pictures if we make it. And the ice doesn't collapse.

And ... Jr.Gopher#2 was at a substitute sitter for the day ... who took him ice skating. He was pretty happy about it, although he informed me "I fell down".

Butpulski Ice Garden pictures

birthday present #44: digital camera

this didn't make it to the ice skating festivities last night at the Butpulski Ice Garden. LawyerB (married to LawyerA) posted pictures on his Facebook page. Luckily, one can copy them. So, while the photograph wasn't taken last night - - it at least gives you a picture of the rink we were on.

This afternoon after school:
Jr.Gopher#1 asked me if I liked the way he was hitting the puck.
me: yes. I was proud of how well you were doing by the end of the night
Jr.Gopher#1 you were proud of me?
me: yes. So was Leo's dad.
Jr.Gopher#1 were all the grown ups proud of me?
me: yes
Jr.gopher#1 was Papa proud of me?
me: I'm sure if he'd been there, he would have been proud of you.

At the end, at least he seemed to have some self-confidence in his approval rating.

The boy with the blue jersey & white helmet is Michael's buddy Leo. Another great reason to have picked St. Albert's: wonderful people our age whose children are the same age as ours. clarification: these were taken another day, just wanted to show where we were; the other kid isn't mine.