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In Praise of Open Minds

Being raised in and around the Boston area lends itself to experiencing some rather wonderful seasonal traditions: summers on Cape Cod, fall apple picking at a local farm, springtime Easter Egg hunts around the yard and, of course, winter sledding and praying for the all too infrequent snow day. We curse the heat in the summer and the ice-encrusted cars in the winter, but the extremes are what make the turn of each season a celebration. 

Just as there are activities which become inextricably linked with certain seasons, there are also some destinations which become synonymous with the term "school field trip." I grew-up roughly 30-minutes north of the city and the three places I remember visiting most frequently were Plimouth Plantation, the Boston Museum of Science and, each winter, the Boston Ballet's performance of The Nutcracker.

Like any pre-teen boy, going to the ballet occupied a place on my "favorite things" list somewhere between going to the dentist and cleaning my room. I've always loved the music and the Wang Theatre is one of the most breathtaking examples of art and architecture I've ever seen, but something about going to the ballet really was not fun. One year in particular I was forced to see The Nutcracker twice in three weeks - once with school and once with my Mom & sister - and became burned-out on the whole experience. Yuck-o. Girl's stuff. 

Flash-forward to today and I'm now the proud papa of three amazing kiddos, including a five-year-old girl. Each year my in-laws are kind enough to send a check to us for Christmas, with the expectation that we put the funds toward a family outing. In years past we have seen various kids' show characters "on ice" (torture,) the Edaville Railroad Festival of Lights (cold) and other such things. This year, however, we decided that we would do something a bit more highbrow. You know, somethin' kinda' classy and stuff. My little girl - who is determined to be a ballerina/singer/veterinarian (basically the female equivalent of Buckaroo Banzai) - dances around the house every time she hears classical music, so we decided it was time to give the ol' Nutcracker another try.

In an attempt to avoid three weeks of complaining by the boy, followed by an epic battle to get into the car in a timely fashion on the day of the show, we didn't tell the kids that we were going. One Sunday Nana and Grampy came over for lunch, as they often do, and we simply said: "Okay kids, time to wear something nice. We're going someplace special while Nana watches the baby."

The kids were very excited - particularly my daughter who LOVES to wear dresses - and the drive into the city was filled with random guesses shouted from the back seat. 

"I know, Dad... it's a laser show at the museum," said my son. 

"Hello! Would be all dressed-up for a laser show? We're going to dinner," replied the five-year-old. (Yes, she does speak like that sometimes. We're working on it.) 

My wife and I just smiled and kept our mouths shut, but as soon as we pulled into the theatre district, the jig was up. 

"Oh no! We're going to the Nutcracker!" shouted the boy.

"The Nutcracker!?!? Wow!" shouted the girl.

I rolled my eyes and pulled into the over-priced and over-crowded parking lot, bracing myself for the onslaught of complaints and the inevitable "why couldn't I bring my Nintendo DS" question. I did, however, know exactly how he was feeling so I tried to be patient.

The ballet is no longer held at the Wang Center - for some reason that beautiful venue now plays host to the stage production of "The Grinch" - but the Opera House is beautiful as well. The sweeping stairway and opulent design offered a momentary distraction to my son, but he soon resumed complaining and asking if he and I could leave the girls at the theatre so we could do something else. I let him rant for another 10 minutes or so before kneeling down so we could have an "eye level" chat.

"Dude, it's like this," I began. "When I was your age, I hated this too. The first time I went to see this show, I was dragged to it too... just like you are now. I complained about it from the minute I found out... just like you. And I was determined that I wasn't going to like it... just like you. BUT, after sitting in the quiet for a few minutes and listening to that music, I actually started to like it. The stage is really cool. There's a battle. A huge Christmas tree grows on stage, right before your eyes. It's awesome. So I'll make this promise to you: if you don't like it, I promise we won't go next year. But you will not keep complaining about it and ruin it for Mommy and your sister. Understood?"

"Yes, Dad," came a half-hearted reply from a mopey little boy who just realized that there's no way out of this situation.

As we made our way to the seats, his spirits were moderately lifted when he realized that he could eat pretzels before the show started. (He was surprised that they weren't worried about getting food in the carpet.) He crunched happily while his sister cradled her Clara doll - which was conveniently purchased from a table set-up near each entrance - and twirled around in excitement. All systems go. 

After consulting with an usher, we found our seats and took in the beauty of the theatre for a few minutes before the lights dimmed and the orchestra began playing that wonderful Tchaikovsky score. On stage, Godfather Drosselmeyer began toiling in his workshop. In the blink of an eye, the workshop transformed into a bustling city street, complete with families bringing home Christmas trees on sleds. Moments later, the street scene seamlessly transformed into the Stahlbaum's ballroom where children are gathered for the family Christmas party. 

"Wow! How did they do that," my son exclaimed. Literally. He shouted. People laughed.

"Shhhh," I laughed. "We'll talk about it on the ride home. Just enjoy."

Ten minutes later, he leaned over and said: "Dad, you're right."

I played dumb. "About what?"

"About this... it's kinda' cool."

And so went the rest of the evening. At a few parts, he leaned over and said: "these ladies have been dancing for a long time." I agreed with him and told him to be patient... that they were almost finished and the next part would begin shortly. He was impressed with the Russian dancers. When it was all over, he stood with the rest of the audience and gave a standing ovation.

As we exited the theatre, he took my hand briefly before my daughter asked to be carried and said that he actually thought the whole experience was "really cool." As I scooped up my daughter, Clara doll and all, she kissed my cheek and thanked me for taking her. He then tugged on my jacket and asked, "Can we buy the soundtrack?"

A new family tradition is born. See you next year, Clara.

Technology & Parenting

The more things change, the more they stay the same... each generation that comes-up is more conversant and comfortable with new technologies. When I was a kid, my parents were amazed with my whiz-bang ability to perform complicated technology-oriented tasks... such as program the VCR or connect my Atari or Commodore VIC-20 to the family Magnavox using a switchbox and a butter knife. As a child, my favorite television channel was three.

Things which were second-nature to me baffled my parents. They're intelligent people, but of a generation where they had very little interest or exposure to processor-based technologies. As time wore on, however, they became computer-savvy and now my Mom trades e-mails and snaps digital photos with the best of 'em. The technology adoption curve and my parents' interest level have finally reached a point of intersection.

The kids of today's generation - my children, for example - appear to be born with a mouse in their hand. My son, who recently turned nine, has been able to fire-up the surround sound system, log in to Webkinz or pop a Dad-approved game into the X-Box for quite a while. He's now into finding topics of interest and writing reports for fun. (No, I'm not kidding.) My five-year-old daughter's most frequent request is "can you please log me on to Noggin?" Of course we balance their techno-time with reading/exercise time, but there's something undeniably cool about sharing episodes of cartoons I loved as a child, which are streaming wirelessly to the Wii from YouTube, and using it as a catalyst for sharing "when I was your age..." stories. (During such times I get to tell them about the stone ages when all televisions had dials, not all of them were color and the coolest video games consisted of red LED blips.)

But technology has not only changed they way they interact with the world and each other, it has changed their lexicon as well. "Let's Google that" has replaced "we should look that up." I usually force him to bust out our old 1,000+ page dictionary to look-up definitions, but should I? Google skills will be infinitely more helpful in the world my kids' will inhabit.

Another interesting, albeit infrequently discussed, way that technology will have a dramatic impact on today's generation places more power in the hands of parents.

My wife and I met when we were 19 years old and we hit it off instantly. When it became abundantly clear to my parents that she would inevitably make the transition from girlfriend to fiancee to wife, they began the time-honored tradition of breaking out the family photo albums for a round of "let's embarass my son." The Polaroids of me crying at Cape Cod after dropping an ice cream, wearing a Colonial three-point hat during the summer of 1976... all of it came out in glorious technicolor. I was moderately annoyed at the time, but it helped my wife to bond with my parents and the family she was about to join. 

My kids, however, will not be subject to fading Polaroids and photo albums. No. We will simply be able to open the closest laptop (or phone or holographic device or whatever will be in vogue when they're teenagers and young adults), hit Google or YouTube and pull up a gem such as that which is embedded above. 

I love technology. 

Divine Inspiration

I don't typically blog about my faith, although I've been told that it tends to come through in my choice of topics or certain turns of phrase. Every now and then, however, I'm struck by the divine... and it serves as an unexpected affirmation that there's a greater power out there and He wants us to be happy.

Even if Baby Sam wakes up for only 10 minutes, it generally means that I'm up for at least an hour or two. He's now beginning the very early stages of speech and recently discovered that a) he has lungs and b) that he can use them to make noise. He tends to experiment with this newfound skill during the wee small hours and this morning's chorale performance came at 4 a.m. My wife had taken a 1 a.m. feeding shift so I picked-up Sam, brought him down to his nursery for a diaper change and a bottle and rocked him a bit in a failed attempt at lulling him back to sleep. 

At one point, I placed him in his crib and grabbed my laptop to catch-up on the news I've missed while holed-up at day-long offsite work meetings. I first visited Pandora.com for background music and flipped through a couple of my stations, finally settling on some classical music before surfing around some of my news sites. After scanning a few headlines, I got up and decided to check in on my other kids... which has become something of a routine when I'm awake at such ungodly hours. As I rattled through the halls of our modest home, one of my favorite cello pieces came on the radio, providing a soundtrack which perfectly fit the serene early morning scene of slumbering children.

My daughter, nestled under her Disney Princess comforter, was sleeping quietly while clutching her favorite stuffed animal. Around the corner, my oldest son had fallen asleep reading a book - as he often does. I laughed a bit to myself... yet another reminder that the apple didn't fall too far from the tree. Midway through the short stroll from the kids' rooms back to the baby's room, I could hear that Sam was again cooing quietly... his voice intertwined with Bach's notes.

In the midst of reading about economic collapse, terrorism's aftermath and a host of other 'bad news' headlines, this rather tranquil scene served as a welcome contrast - and perhaps a subtle reminder - that for all the ugliness in the world, there is remarkable beauty as well.

The embedded video clip above is the amazing Yo-Yo Ma playing the prelude to Bach's Cello Suite No. 1 and stands as one of those all too rare occasions when a musician is perfectly paired with his music. (For a jazzier example of perfection, check out Sinatra at the Sands where The Chairman teams-up with Count Basie.)

Enjoy.

'Tis the Season

I think we've all heard about the sickening Black Friday Walmart tragedy on Long Island. You know, the one where a man was trampled as shoppers ran over him in an effort to get a good buy? Disgusting, isn't it? "Things" now mean more than people. My initial reaction to this is that it's something of a rare case, but I think we've all experienced this type of behavior - albeit to a much lesser degree - in one way, shape or form.

As a parent, I love getting that perfect gift for my kids. I love seeing their faces light-up when I'm able to give my daughter that special dollhouse or my son the videogame he's been asking about for months. To a large degree, it's because these 'things' take on a different meaning in the eyes of a child... they're transformed from material possessions to cherished remembrances of childhood. When I was a kid, the old Kenner Star Wars toys were my objects of desire and I'll never forget the holidays and birthdays were I would receive a toy that would add to my collection. Those toys kept me busy for hours on end and sparked creativity... and now my son is playing with those hand-me-downs fram a galaxy far, far away. I'm 100% certain, however, that if getting the Millennium Falcon would require my Mom & Dad to stand in line at 5 a.m., I probably wouldn't have it.

Still and all, I was up on Black Friday and hit my local Target well before dawn. There was no pushing or fighting, no punches thrown or unruly crowds, but you could see little pockets of nastiness here-and-there which reminded me that the meaning behind the holidays are secondary in the minds of some people. Like the guy who looked me in the eye and smiled as he stood in front of my shopping cart when I said, "excuse me, can I squeeze by." (He was trying to get in to the department I was trying to exit. I had to shove my way past.) Or at the woman who literally growled at people who were standing in front of the Wii videogame case because she wanted to pick out a game for her child. It's disgusting. 

Don't get me wrong... we're as over-the-top as anyone when it comes to decorations, Christmas carols and Santa lists, but I'm trying really hard to ensure that there's a balance. We're upping the amount we drop into the collection basket each Sunday. We're looking at different charities to support through our time and effort. We're spending a bit of extra time in prayer. Anything to help reaffirm that there's the Christmas that's represented too pervasively in the Sunday circulars and 30-second TV spots, and then there's the real Christmas... the one that's about sacrifice and celebration.

Which one is receiving greater emphasis in your house? How are you trying to place priority and focus where it belongs? Sometimes it feels like an uphill battle, but I would love to hear your ideas so please leave a comment. 

Unless you're that guy I literally bumped into at Target... I hope you get a lump of coal. ;)