SouleMama

SoulePapa Blogs :: Get Trained

Her feet pumping and knees high I can't help but laugh at the futility of the situation. 

Previous Soule dogs have been raised with much love and little training...very little training.  They were leashless and lawless and got into trouble and tight spots and spent time getting stitches at the vet, having porcupine quills pulled out of their tongues and acting like the dogs they were.  I once spent several hours near Loveland Pass, Colorado trying to get Mow off a ledge on to which he'd chased a big horn sheep (the sheep was long gone by the time I got up there).  When they were puppies, the training amounted to shrugging your shoulders and running them until they dropped, quite literally.  The theory being that an exhausted dog has no desire to bite your niece and nephew, jump up on the elderly woman next door or chew your running shoes to bits and pieces .  That was the program.  Now?  Now, there are children.  Many children. 

So, Adelaide rounds the corner, feet pumping and elbows swinging.  Nellie, with a firm bite into the sweet bubble dress (you remember it?)  and all four paws sliding effortlessly across the wood floor as Ada pulls her in a screaming, laughing, hysterical circle around the house.  The boys snap their heads around to look at me, eyes wide, as if to say, "we know this is probably not in the training regimen but, can we laugh right now? 'cause...this is pretty damn funny".  I drop my head, defeated in discipline but inflated by the spirit of a girl and her dog, and we all laugh.  She doesn't need won't take any advice on raising a puppy.  Or a cat.  She has her own style which involves lots of headlocks, upside down holds and spending time under the blankets.  They love her for the attention but I shudder to think of what it will be like when Nellie looks less like a Beagle and more like a Great Dane.  Will I be the one running through the house screaming while she bites me by the seat of the pants?  Perhaps.

But, as with our previous dogs, love will prevail.  They'll end up teaching us more than we could ever teach them.  The pain of all the tough late night tromps around the house and the incessant chewing of furniture and fingers will somehow evaporate and we'll be left with only the sweetest of memories.  This pup will probably be snuggled under the blankets with these kids when they are teenagers.  So, she's not really in training, she's just family.

SoulePapa Blogs :: A Fortress in Time

This fort runs thick with the vibe of crumbling memories from an era which I stretch to fathom.  A time of insecurity and struggle which lead the people of this place, which is our home, to build shelter in the hillside and watch for the enemy. 

My children walk across this history with steps light and eyes alive.
 


Thrilled by the mystery of a tunnel through which they can travel back into the dark recesses and explore its' damp path.  I try and explain the why and how and when but much of the story rings hollow with generalities and loose ends which I struggle to tie.  I can't seem to connect myself to the humans that roamed across this landscape from a past that seems distant...but isn't.  I answer the childrens' questions to the limit of my knowledge.   
Finally, I crouch with my back against an abundantly cracked wall, being consumed by vegetation.  The wall is slowly, slowly being devoured by the hillside.  This seems natural enough but suggests an urgency for me to decipher this code of disconnection before it disappears all together.
I think of the late Utah Phillips and his assertion that "the past didn't go anywhere".  That we are standing among it all the time.  I feel this. 
As I lean against that wall and watch the children explore I am reminded of the present.  Reminded of those places where eyes are still watching for the enemy.  Where children still need to take cover. 

I talk with my kids about when they are not feeling safe. 

This, they understand.

One day they will contemplate the riddles of the past.  The injustices of the present.  The threads that bind the two together.  I see that my ancestors that built this fort had both a past to contemplate and a future to shape.  They were farmers and fishermen and artists and teachers.  Not just fighters. Through the distance of time I think that, like me, they would be happy to see children playing on this hillside.

SoulePapa Blogs :: (Note to Self)

Sometimes it moves pretty quick.  When you don't have time to think.  React.  Remember days when all you had was time.  Time to reflect.  Now.  Now is for living. 

Just live. 

Wake up, tie your boots on and get out in it.  Smell it, feel it.  Roll down the windows so you can hear it.  Listen.  Make some noise so you can be part of it.  Put your hands in it.  Deep.  Pick it up and toss it around.  Break it open against the ground.  Flip it over.  Drink it up.  Let it spill.  Touch. 

Take the time to do that.

Take the effort to throw it a mile high and kick it when it comes down.  Hug it and don't let it go.  Stare at it.  Clench your fists and yell it.  Raise your arms to celebrate it.   Hold it's hands and dance.  Close your eyes and take a chance.  Make it happen.

Crawl through it on your hands and knees.  Surrender.  Defy.  Rebel.  Let it break you down.  Get up with it.  Run with it until your legs give out and you can't breathe or move or shout.  Encircle it.  Let it in. Float in it.  Spin...  Smile.  Ride.  Stack it up into the sky.  Burn it down to feel the heat.  Chase it down a city street.

Tell it jokes until you cry.  Cry with it.  Cry with it until you smile.  Laugh with it for a while.

Make it pretty.  Give it away.  Cover it with mud.  Let it stay.

Race it to the edges of the Earth.  Jump with it.  Fly above.

Dream about it. 

Shower it with love.  Protect it.

Never.  Ever.  Forget it.

Don't forget.

(Note to Self)

This is it.

 

SoulePapa Blogs :: Upon Arrival

Doors open, the air and the children move freely between inside and out.  Unconscious, or unwilling to be bound by consciousness, their feet turned without slowing, powered by great motors of heart.  All manner of objects were strewn about the yard in a post apocalyptic grid of childhood frenzy.  Everything. From wheelbarrows to hula hoops, bicycles to rain boots, rakes and a hammer, some rope... a disposable camera.  

I stepped, cautiously, from the car.  Home from a day in which I'd left long before the little beings had stirred their first thought from outside the reins of slumber.  I was noticed only with sideways smiles and glances amidst their flurry, not the attention to which I've become accustomed to receiving after a long day away.  Hmmm.  Now I approached the house with care, having an idea that the mommy on the other end of this type of activity could be severely not well.  A casualty of this riotous scene, in miniature.  How would I find the Mama Soule?  Could she have possibly lived through a day at home with these three, plus one, and have a remaining shred of...herself? 

My stomach sinks into slightly uneasy as I recall how I feel at the end of a particularly long day flying solo with this band of marauders.  I circle around the car and approach the front porch like I'm the first person upon a crime scene.  For a moment, I am distracted as they circle around me two, three times and then off again with audible enthusiasm.  When was the last time I spoke with Amanda?  I think it was before lunch.  I carry on, climbing the steps now.  Craning my head around the railing I catch my first glimpse of the her.  Sitting outside, sunglasses on, smiling baby on her lap.  Before I have a chance to actually speak the kids surround us in an instant.  Attempting to fill me in on the ten hours of their life I just missed with a boiled down thirty second assault, I catch some key words...fort. whittle. Ezra. awesome. bandaid.  I finally receive the love as little arms wrap around me from all directions.  Now they're off again, down the stairs and away.

In the remaining silence I turn and look at my wife.  We exchange an understanding look.

"I made popcorn for dinner....want some?!"

 

I love this woman.

SoulePapa Blogs :: Something Scary

We were traveling through the night to spend some weeks getting lost(and found) in the ancient, steep rivers of the Southeastern USofA.  Our paddling gear was worth more than my truck, which had a penchant for breaking down at the most inopportune of times, and we shook and rattled our way at top speed toward our destination.  Somehow we'd fashioned our itinerary to include putting in on our first river immediately following 16 hours of driving.  We stood there bleary eyed and exhausted and already calling into question, our own judgment.  As we geared up and shouldered our boats through the thick underbrush to find ourselves staring face to face with a thundering, rain swollen river, my old friend said, "Ya know...you should do something that scares you every day".

He said many quotable things over the years and remains a master at breaking up any tension that may reside in a situation but, the wisdom residing in these words, took me several years to comprehend.  Back then, the notion of "something scary" generally involved risking life and/or limb in search of a little taste of adrenaline.  Now, I realize that fear creeps into the nooks and crannies of my psyche and leaves me uneasy.  Unaware.  Sometimes it is subtle like the screening of a phone call.  Other times it is furiously obvious, like being caught in a lie.  Usually, I can't even put my finger on fear or recognize it's face enough to call it by name.  But, if I am sure of one thing about fear, it is that fear exists.  If you can't admit that, then you have little chance of doing something that scares you every day.

I've not found one endeavor more capable of producing fear and offering scary moments than that of raising children.  As they navigate through the trials of a day, I am given many opportunities to see my own shortcomings.  As a parent.  As a person.  Like staring into the mirror and studying my own eyes, I see, in them, the truth.  In them, I am confronted with the very best and the very worst of myself.  Every.  Single.  Day.  And there I am for my children to see, strengthened by trial and humbled by experience.  Crowned as a champion and exposed as a fraud.  The only thing I have to offer is myself and... I've got nowhere else to be. 

I still see my paddling buddy from time to time.  He's out there.  Spreading his words around.  I think about that first day of our trip and how those few simple words have stayed with me for a lifetime.  I chuckle a sort of nervous laugh when I think which words of mine these kids will remember.  Now that could be scary.  Maybe...  Hopefully, It will be something that serves them well.  Something that helps them face their fears with honesty.  Not perfection, just truth.  A quality I strive to see staring back at me, each time I look into that mirror.

If learning is living and the truth is a state of mind

You'll find it's better

At the end of the line                                                                                                   

                            ~ Farrar

SoulePapa Blogs :: Here and There

 

They stare with a thick air of skepticism out over an expanse of ocean.  The wind bites, faces wince and burrow deeper into clothing.  The trail has melted, been blown smooth and frozen again and we tread with some care after a dozen or so swift crashes into its hard and unwelcoming surface.  Shaking it off, they push themselves back into an upright position and carry on.  Soon they are laughing and shouting defiantly as they get a running start to slide down the icy expanse.  The resulting tumble, while still bone jarring, is of their own accord.  Resilient.

 

They are not discouraged for long by a landscape which shifts beneath them.  Change presents possibility as old ideas are left behind or rendered impractical for the current conditions.  With so much to accomplish, failure is delegated a small seat in the back of the room.  Inspiring.

 

They're tuning into the frequency of a season that approaches while changing speeds and swerving.  Yet they are innately in tune.  Instinctual.

And still, freeze or thaw, you can always count on Mama to have the proper footwear.  Practical?

Wishing you all the best of weekends...whichever season you may be experiencing in your part of the world.

SoulePapa Blogs :: The Roll

As the thaw gains momentum, we roll.  The mercury ventures above freezing by a few degrees and the people rejoice and sit in silent revelry, faces trained on the nearing Sun.  A Sun to which we hold no grudge.  All is forgiven as the warmth circles. 

Undeterred by the earthy remnants of soil and leaf that are exposed as winter recedes, we stand and let our feet sink in.  Fists raised and arms bare we welcome this time of transition and all its' messy glory. The mess extends inside as children feel the shift and their minds race with all of the possibilities.  Books are opened, pictures drawn and dry clothes garnered as they head back outside for another dose of inspiration.  Disjointed branches lay strewn, lost in battle, across the landscape amidst the rotten leaves and stubborn snow.  We poke our noses from our holes and hold them high in the air to catch the shifting scent of transformation as the land prepares to usher in a time of unparalleled growth.  Evolving.

The same temps that had us running for wool hats and sweaters back in the fall, have us happily shedding them in the downhill race through March toward a season of rapid change.  Chilly winds that foreshadowed the coming of winter are diluted by the gentle warmth of encroaching spring.  A seasons worth of stored energy with all of its' potential is now transformed and kinetic and we roll.  The reflections of winters' calm solitude make way for the future and a time for life.  For being in the midst of it all.  And toward that, we happily roll.

SoulePapa Blogs :: Swift Delivery

I glimpsed the delivery driver through the upstairs window, long rectangular box tucked under one arm, other arm out wide for balance as he teetered along the icy unwelcome mat that is our driveway.

"A package!" came the joyous cry from the housebound winter hostages.

"Thanks!" they chant in unison as our hero descends back down the steps and skates to his rig with both hands free and a purposeful glide.

"What is it Mama?  Do you know what it is Mama?  Is it for me Mama?"

"Oooooh...This...is. for. Me!"  Mama says happily and with a quick apology to the other hopefuls.

The crowd senses something is up as she hurriedly searches for an implement to crack through the thick fortress of packing tape that reminds me of the presents I used to receive from my Nana when she was still alive.  No crack is left un-taped but the Mama is resolved to get in as the onlookers watch in an increasingly curious manner.  Everyone takes a few guesses as to what may be inside the unusually shaped confine.  

A baseball bat!  Tap shoes!  A doggie!

With admirable but waning patience we wait.  Mama breathes with relief as an end is wrestled apart. A silence falls over the room as she slides out a wooden cylinder which, when released from its' cage, unfolds into what appears to be a lampshade made out of popsicle sticks.

"What in the heck is that!!"  exclaims Calvin.

"THIS.  Is a swift!"

In general, I don't get too excited about deliveries...particularly, ones that aren't for me.  But the swift is a marvel of engineering brilliance and practicality AND it rescues me from a lifetime of being the two handed stiff while Mama winds her yarn. 

The result.

Happiness is...

SoulePapa Blogs :: The Wearing Away

The light slowly creeps back into our days with little fanfare.  Each day extending a minute or so until dinner is, once again, accompanied by the sun.  Those extra moments of heat nibble away at the heavy blanket of snow which cloaks our corner of the world.  Some fog and a rain shower continue the elemental assault on frozen water but winter, she is stubborn and freezing and brings new snow despite the growing resentment from some of its recipients.  Slowly, the ice wears away toward bare ground.  Ever so slowly. 

Your mind can rush ahead and imagine what will be...Days of Spring.  Light, warmth, growth.  But change plods along unaware and patient. 

This morning I found the oldest, awake in his bed, flipping through photo albums.  He chronicled his journey in relation to each of his siblings' births.  He is old enough to place himself within the context of time, growing, amongst his family and friends.  Watching them grow.  Imperceptible by day, undeniable by season, they change.  He views each picture, thoughtfully.  Not quite sentimental about the past and not particularly anxious about the future, I try and learn some of this practicality from him.  

I find it exponentially more difficult to live in the present while feeling responsible for so many futures.  Then I'll see something reminding me that time and change come together now and, if I can appreciate that, the future will be just fine.

SoulePapa Blogs :: In the Clutches

This is a season of ritual for northerners.  Over centuries of moving through four distinct seasons we have distilled techniques for coping with a long frozen winter that are as diverse as the people who  endure them.

Regardless of the approach, we are bound by nature at this time of year.  Whether you are curled up on the couch with a good book, an endless supply of yarn and enough tea to outlast the winter or attaching various contraptions to your feet and braving the elements in the name of a good time. 
The very old are wary of the damage that a slip on the ice can do to their aging bones.  The very young tuck their faces into your chest and brace from the cold. 

From the time I was four years old, my father and my grandfather and my uncles would journey into the wilds of Maine, waking me well before sunrise, to climb on snowmobiles and travel through the woods out across the frozen lakes and rivers.  In search of big fish and a little fun, they taught me that the cold was not an annoyance nor a luxury.  It was just...cold.  Like heat or mosquitoes or the breeze.  If you're cold, stand by the fire.  If you're hot, take off your coat.  When you've caught enough fish for dinner, go home and eat.  Being four, I appreciated and understood these rules.  I felt safe on that ice because they told me I was safe. 

In elementary school we'd head to the local sliding hangout, "Killers' Hump", and stay until darkness forced us home for dinner.  I still remember the feeling of warmth I'd get seeing the lights on in our house and smoke rising from the chimney.  My mom bustling around the kitchen.

 

I remember these times as we open the jars of food we worked so hard to save from the fall harvest.  We bring in the sticks of wood that have been stacked for months.  Shoveling out after a big snow.   Now, it is our time to provide those simple comforts.  To let our children know that, no matter how cold that wind is blowing outside, at home the fire is burning.

SoulePapa Blogs :: Through the Door

Since the day I realized I was going to be a dad for the first time...even before that,  I was formulating ideas in my brain about how I would raise my children.  Not how we would right all of the injustices perpetrated upon us in our childhood.  Not how we'd eat organic or dismiss the TV.  Certainly not how, through hard work and discipline, my children would excel and succeed in a hyper competitive world.  Mostly, I would imagine climbing mountains. Outfitting my kids tightly into kayaks for multi-day excursions into deep river canyons.  Skiing.  Before starting a family, these were my passions.  My every day pursuits.  I wanted them to feel the connection to the Earth that I had felt.

Then, as the children appeared...and multiplied, I realized getting out the door, into the car and headed toward the beach without forgetting lunch or swimsuits or diapers could be an expedition of which to be proud.  And, while introducing my kids to the astonishing beauty and abundant challenges of the natural world is still at the top of my parenting list, engaging in a match of wits and wills with a three year old girl and her brothers remains my focus. 

Watching them grow and experience life beyond the door has been different and perhaps more pleasurable than I'd imagined.  I'd never been so aware of the energy that envelopes a child when they enter the water, until it was my child.  The significance of planting and nurturing a seed.  How that connection would be personal, entirely their own, and different from mine.  Yet, sometimes, these paths of connectivity intersect and an experience is shared.  These are the days for which I live.

Late last summer we were in the woods enjoying a rain storm from the shelter of our camp.  Calvin turned to me and said, "I want to go for a paddle".
For a split second, I was thinking, "Oh, man.  I do NOT want to go out in that rain".  I managed to avoid my initial response and we pushed off.  We paddled in unison, without saying a word, as the rain poured down on us.  I watched my son sitting strong in the bow of that boat, with his head up, taking in the wonder of that moment.  He turned around with the broadest of grins and just smiled at me.

"This was a good idea," I said.

This week, I road a chairlift and looked out over the western Maine mountains with Ezra as he skied down a slope for the first time.

 

Like the world around them, they continue to surprise.
They continue to inspire.
Yeah. A day and it's possibilities.          

SoulePapa Blogs :: Out of Somewhere

I walked in the small hours of the morning with the littlest of Soules cradled in my arms.  John Lennon had been beckoned by Pandora to sing softly and my thoughts drifted, between life and loss, as my thoughts do in the quiet hours of a day.  I held tight and he held back as each step wore gently into the wood floor.  As we circled I remembered a dream that I had before his birth.

I dreamt I was at the beach surrounded by children that I did not know.  It was sunny and warm and the kids were smiling and looking at me as I taught them to play a game.  I was talking and moving but I had no control over my actions.  This all seemed quite normal to dream me.  The children caught on quickly and began adding pieces and twists to the game that delighted them.  As they ran down the beach laughing in brilliant sun splashed haze, dream me stood still, captivated and smiling.

The waves closed out.  The dream was over.

As Harper slept lightly against my chest,  I felt a similar calm to the one I experienced after that dream.  I've been down this way before.  I knew enough this time around to realize that I wouldn't truly be ready for his arrival.  So, I was ready to not be ready.  I knew we'd love him and eventually it would be as if he'd always been here.  Still...to sit and watch him unfold. 

To be touched so deeply by a hand so light.

SoulePapa Blogs :: Loose Change

I saw some of my oldest and dearest friends recently.  I've known them since I can remember knowing anybody.  They've always just been there...even when they're not there.  Like family.  We've blown and scattered, our communications few, even in this golden age of electric text.  With a little effort we reunited,  spent a couple of days together like the brothers we always were, and went home.

I watch my children grow.  I remember being five years old.  I wonder what they will remember from this time in their life.  I wonder if they have met any friends that they will have as adults. 

I remember my grandfather always taking pictures.  Taking pictures and telling stories from his past.  Later, as he was suffering from alzheimers, I wondered if he had been trying to preserve all that he knew...so he wouldn't forget.  I wonder what I will forget.

This time of having children so young, is so busy and moves so fast that I fear it will be gone before I can fully realize what it is that I have.

I remember my good friend Darby.  I would bring people to meet him at his house in the woods and he would always jump up to embrace them and say, "welcome home!".  I loved that. 

Wherever he is now, I'm sure it is home.

I hope my children always feel connected and loved and embraced no matter how far away they may be.

SoulePapa Blogs :: Days of Summer :: 20

Wake up early.  A quiet walk on the trail before work.
Warm.
No talking.  No being talked to. 
Listening.

SoulePapa Blogs :: An Autobiography of Sorts

Here we are.

We're on a ball hurtling through space and spinning.  Spinning at around 1000 miles an hour if you're an equator dwellor or essentially 0 miles an hour at the poles (I can get you a formula if you want to calculate your own areas rotational speed). 
Steady now, don't stop reading.
I think I might be going somewhere with this but I didn't plot it out all the way through before I started typing.  0 mph at the poles or 1000 mph at the equator but hurtling nevertheless, hurtling in an orbit around a big fiery ball of mass or gas, or what have you, that we call the sun (el sol...cool.).  About  18.5 miles per second we go in that orbit or...66,000 miles an hour.  I'm not an astrology guy I had to look these numbers up.  Correct me if I'm way off here but I gather that our little personal solar system is on the edge of a spiral arm of our galaxy.  We're buzzing along, in orbit, around the center of "our" galaxy, the Milky Way, at like 155 miles per second.  We'll complete that orbit in a mere 200 million years give or take a cuppy million.  It goes on and on and on.  Galaxies and groups of galaxies...

Still with me?  Let me bring this back home.

We're born. 

We're born, if we're extremely fortunate, into the loving arms of our mothers.  More fortunate still if there are more arms there that love.  Fathers.  More mothers.  Excellent mothers. GRAND mothers you might say.

We grow.  If healthy, we grow and grow and develop our own patterns of movement.  Irregular orbits around those mothers and fathers in a little personalized version of the solar system.  But they have their own orbital patterns that they must follow.  We try and keep up but it's tiring, very tiring.  Often we get scooped up and carried.  Now we're like a moon.  Not a dry and distant, cold looking moon.  But a living breathing drooling stooling crying sleeping wailing hungry moon that needs nourishment.  Nourishment of all imaginable sorts.  So, we're nourished and we grow and grow some more and in a few short orbits around the fiery ball in the sky we're set free.  Those arms that held us so tight and warm and rocked and spun us around our world give us the loving cosmic nudge into our own space. (Sidenote:  Some cosmic nudges are more loving than others.  Harder nudges can be referred to as the cosmic boot.)

Here we float.  Adrift in a sea of possibilies.  The infinite. 

Some float here for many revolutions around the fiery ball. 

Others prefer and seek more defined orbits. 

I floated...    And floated.

I found something to help me float.  Water.  I found water.

I floated on water for many fiery trips around the sun.  I stayed with her as she froze and remained at her side as she melted again.  Whether she was fierce and overpowering or gentle and placid.  I stayed with her.

Adrift.

Eventually though... eventually,  I slipped out of the water onto the ground. 
It wasn't as dizzying as I'd remembered.  I felt stronger in my orbit.

Just when my thoughts and feelings and rotation and orbit were at their strongest I found the most amazing and dizzying concept of all...Love. 

Love that never leaves.

It held me with all of its' force and told me this was good.  This was the place.

Love grew and grew and grew and spun rapidly into family.  Family that supports and nourishes and spins around itself.  We practice the nudges into orbit and relish the sweet and messy gravity of the moons.  We forget and must remind ourselves that we're spinning through space.  Together.  Of all the moons and stars and galaxies across the universe.  We are here.  Together.

SoulePapa Blogs :: In the Corners

There I was on the journey toward mindfulness screeching through the parking lot in a desperate attempt to get past the auto doors and into groceries before closing time.  It's 9:47pm. 
I recite the list in my head and grab a cart.  Wheeling it nimbly around I'm happily calling Amanda to pronounce myself king for making it in time and to ask her what was the other thing she wanted me to get besides milk. 

"Tea"  she says after giving props, "I REALLY need some good tea".  Oh yeah, tea.

I pop a cart wheelie and drive promptly into the auto doors which don't budge but make quite a loud sound when rammed with a metal box.   A man with no soul is tapping on the glass and pointing to his watch, "We close at 9:30, sir", his eyes shifting to inspect the doors for damage. "It's Sunday"  he says.

I can't speak as I walk shamefully back to the car and consider how miserable a Monday morning could really be with nothing to feed the kids, no tea and, worst of all, I'm leaving early for work and laying it all at my dear wife's aching pregnant feet.
How is my world of part time stay at home Papa, so dialed in just moments earlier, tossed this easily into disarray...chaos.  Driving home I realize how unfit I am to be charged with rearing children...educating children!!  I can't even manage to get food for breakfast.

I wheel into the driveway. Radio off. Driving slow.
The headlights illuminate my yard in all its' neglected beauty. This sight does little to boost my spirits.
Hoping to do something of benefit before leaving I set the alarm an hour early.

I wake determined to dent the formidable wall that is my list of chores.  Chores that must happen before the weather flies south for winter.  I grab my camera on the way out and begin documenting what i see.  Unruly  wisteria,  leaky shed roof,  wood pile,  randomly strewn objects.  At first I'm framing shots like an insurance adjuster, just the facts.  Soon, the morning air loosens the tension from my face and I'm enjoying myself.  No worries. No hurries. I walk through the wet grass.

Grinning, I snap a few more pictures as the sun rises over my shoulder... That's better.

Now I need to find a store that's open this early.

"All you do is head straight for the grave, a face just covers a skull a while. Stretch that skull cover and smile." - Kerouac

SoulePapa Blogs :: When there is NO PLAN B

Here's a post that happens when your daughter doesn't talk for cold microphones and you just can't possibly do justice to her words, that flow in bright colors and start and stop and tell only truth.   My groupings of text just sat there in black and white on the screen.  I stared at it for quite some time.  Nothing moved.  I erased it and started over.  I even chased her down and asked for more quotes.  She gave them willingly and went on her merry way.  Type Type Type...nothing.

This is her.

Plan B - I leave you some candy:

Calvin's fave - he gets on his bike immediately after viewing.  Every. Time. - Ryan Leech

Ezra's choice...go figure. - Hyperactive - Lasse Gjertsen

A friend gave me a copy of this Bob Dylan piece many years ago when I really needed it. - Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie (for those who'd rather listen : Bob Dylan)

Oh...and one from the Mama. - I'm Not Stupid

Adelaide likes Little Bear...Here's a favorite. - Duck Loses Her Quack

Have a nice weekend!!

Love,  SoulePapa

SoulePapa Interviews : Calvin

An interview with the eldest child:

Papa:  Let's get right down to brass tacks...what did you think of the Princess Bride?

Calvin:  I liked it. 

Papa:  Why did you have us turn it off and tell us to send it back when it got scary?

Calvin:  It wasn't scary!  I was tired.  I couldn't keep my eyes open.  I was up like three hours too late.
Well,  not really three hours but it felt like it.

Papa:  So, you'd try to watch it again?

Calvin:  Yeah.  I would.

Papa:  Who was your favorite character?

Calvin:  The Giant!  (giggles, giggles)  I like Andre the Giant.

Papa:  What else is happening in Calvin's world?

Calvin:  I'm playing baseball... and i have a dance performance on Sunday.

Papa:  It's going to be a busy weekend, huh?

Calvin:  Why?

Papa:  Because you got stuff going on, kid.  Do you get nervous performing in front of an audience?

Calvin:  Yes.  Well ... baseball I feel fine.  I'll probably be a little nervous for my dance.

Papa:  Are there going to be other people on stage with you?

Calvin:  Yep.  Three other kids...my age.

Papa:  What's your favorite position in baseball?

Calvin:  Shortstop.

Papa:  I thought it was catcher!

Calvin:  Oh yeah - catcher!

Papa:  Conformist.

Calvin:  What do you mean conformist?  What does that mean?

Papa:  I said catcher and you were like, "oh yeah, catcher".  Conforming to what i said might be your favorite postion.

Calvin:  I didn't know that catcher counted as a position.

Papa:  So you weren't conforming?

Calvin:  No.  I'm going to go get some bread.

Papa:  Be careful with the knife.

Calvin:  Dad.  How can I be careful with the knife I'm already done.

Dad:  OK.  Enough chit chat.  You've always been very focused on your passion of the moment.  For instance,  when you were into the Wizard of Oz,  you showed very little interest in any thing else.  From morning until night,  you dressed as the characters, read the books, drew pictures, went to plays and asked to watch scenes from the movie.  All Wizard.  All the time.  You've moved through SO. MANY.of these over the years like, birds, farming, trapping, bike riding and such. 

What has your interest right now?  What do you go to bed and wake up thinking about right now in your life?

Calvin:  Baseball.

Dad:  Anything else to say?

Calvin:  Can we be all done.  I wanna pitch to you.

SoulePapa Interviews : Ezra

Here's a hard hitting interview I did with Ezra recently:

Papa: So, Calvin, do you want to do an interview with me that I can put on Mama's blog?

Calvin: NO!  What's an interview?

Papa:  I ask you questions about stuff and you answer them.  It'll be cool.

Calvin:  Okaaaay.

Papa:  Alright, so, being a homeschooled kid,  how do you plan what you're going to do with your day.

Calvin:  ...I don't know. I don't want to do this right now. did you bring anything to eat?

Ezra:  I know how I plan MYYYY daaaaaay.

Papa:  Ok.  How do you plan your day Ez?

Ez:  Well, I get up and I just know that I. want. to.  .......play frisbee! (he never plays frisbee)

Papa:  This isn't a puff piece Ezra.  Tell me what you've been up to lately.  What are you learning about right now?

Ez:  We're driving in the car.

Papa:  Right,  well not this very instant but what are you doing around the house that you like.

Ez:  I've been writing my letters!

Papa:  Yeah.  What are you working on with your letters?

Ez:   My story books, like little house on the prairie and a letter to Gramp and a letter to Amelia (his penpal in Australia). 

Papa:  Are you typing your letters at the computer or writing by hand?

Ez:  I like to type them at the computer but Mama says I need to write them sometimes too.

Papa:  What else are you up to?  You've been playing a lot of music lately, huh?

Ez:  I like to make recipes!

Papa:  Oh yeah.  Tell me about how you decide what will go into an Ezra recipe.

Ez:  Well mostly I get ideas from watching movies.

Papa:  Are you kidding?  People are going to see this and think you hang out and watch movies all day and that's where you get your ideas from.

Ez:  Well I do.

Papa:  Moving along to your other influences for recipes.

Ez:  I just put in whatever I think will taste good unless you tell me it will be too wasteful and I won't want to eat it.

Papa:  Do you usually eat what you've made?

Ez:  Sometimes.

Papa:  So, you've been playing lots of music lately - like on your keyboard.  Do you think about your songs ahead of time or wait until you get at an instrument and just start playing?

Ez:  I just push all the keys and when I find the notes that I really REALLY like...  I keep them.

Papa:  Ezra.

Ez:  What?

Papa:  You're awesome.

Ez:  Heeeeeeeeeee.  Can we get ice cream?

SoulePapa Blogs :: Go Mama Go

The Mama :: The Manuscript

The light in the forest

Go Mama Go!!!

SoulePapa Blogs :: Into the Light

The fevers have parted.  Noses have, essentially,  stopped running.  The sun shone brightly and warmed that crusty, frozen surface of the home we call Earth. We stepped from our den of hibernation,  a place we've been squirreled away for the better part of two weeks, riding out a miserable flu, into the outside world.  What a miraculous feeling to absorb that heat. That light.  To breathe the cold winter air into recuperating lungs neglected with days of dry, indoor air. 
The boys quickly realized the sun had softened the top layer of snow just enough to make it sticky.  We rolled it in white mounds all about the yard to make a wall which soon formed into a fort.  Calvin grabbed his sled and began making quick steep runs off our mammoth snow pile.  Using the fort wall as a banked turn, he slid with a fury, narrowly missing Ezra's feet on each descent.  Ez did not peep nor move.  He sat, silently.  Content to be out of doors munching a block of snow.
Adelaide, the latest and hardest hit influenza victim, was happy to be in Mama's arms watching the action.  And Mama, delighted to be taking a well deserved writing break and soaking up some sun of her own.

Legs turned, blood pumped, eyes closed and thought of nothing but that very instant and the feeling of being.  Healthy. 

It's snowing again as i write this.  All are asleep (except Mama, of course) and I turn off each of the lights and walk out into the yard.  The flakes, big and wet, drop and silently wipe away the traces of life that were here only moments before.  Like an evening tide erasing a thousand footprints that won't ever be duplicated. 

It is magical and it is bittersweet and it is all that I believe.

SoulePapa Blogs :: Three May KooK

Kook (ko̵̅o̅k) : Someone regarded as eccentric or crazy and standing out from a group.

exhibit 1:

Dinner was late as usual with Papa at the helm and the kids were beside themselves with low blood sugar, tired bones and more than a touch of delirium.  Things were escalating in a direction that most parents would recognize and probably label as "not good."  As would I.

One had emptied the dolly carriage contents across the room, like a bad doll car wreck, and proceeded to place his sister inside for a high speed ride. The other had begun to turn out all the lights in the house, upstairs and down, rendering it virtually impossible to cook and even more difficult to properly navigate a doll carriage with your sister inside.  Even if she was shouting with glee at the moment, I could see this ending poorly.  I demanded to be listened to, as any father would, but could sense, with my extra keen nodes of perception that I've developed over these years of parenting, that I probably wouldn't be. 
Attempting to use a more subtle means of strength than the forefathers, I went with the fast and determined stride across the room and took my subject gently by the shoulders and turned him away from the light switch to engage in eye to eye deliberations.

"Ezra, WHAT are you doing?" I said in my calm, collected guy voice.

"KooKin'!!"  said he, with a smile so wide and so contagious I had to have one too.

Now, I had no idea what "KooKin' " was.  I'd never heard the word.
But, decided right then that it deserved a day in court, " Five minutes of KooKin'!!" I declared. 
"BUT," waving the fatherly finger and setting the ground rules, "I get ONE light!".

In unison, "OKAY!"  Aargh, I low balled.  "AND," trying to reassert my control over the situation, "Don't bother your mother, she's trying to work."

"Yeah, RIGHT!", a faraway voice from upstairs hollered.

"Sorry, Sweetie!!" I yell.  "Sorry, Mama!!" they yell.

"Let the KooKin' begin!"

I now have five minutes of guaranteed light, by which, I finish my cooking.  The children have a sanctioned bout of rough housing - running, jumping up and down and shouting, "kookin!" - interrupted occasionally, of course, by Papa for rules infractions usually of the, "that is going to hurt somebody," variety.  And...well, tradition is born.
So, this is how a semi-regular "Papa Style" ritual develops around our household.  Something like 1 part necessity, 1 part understanding and 3 parts lightening up.  Something like that.

Invention, my dear friends, is 93% perspiration, 6% electricity, 4% evaporation, and 2% butterscotch ripple.

                                                  - Willy Wonka

SoulePapa Blogs :: A Moment

With Adelaide drifting through a high fever nap in the sling, the boys make halfhearted, restless attempts at quiet play.  Clearly they would rather be shaking about in goofy gyration to some raucous tunes or scaling the small mountain of ice deposited so graciously by our heroic plow guy (He may not leave much room for vehicular passage but he does set the kids up with some serious winter terrain).  But, Papa had his hands full of sad sweetness and the motivation for them to get geared and out the door, without help, was failing them in miserable fashion. 
Eventually, they geared down and sunk into some late afternoon projects.  I got Ezra a book from the shelf that I often turn to when asked to draw...well, any animal pretty much.  Good old Ed Emberley's Drawing Book of Animals leads you through a really simple progression of shapes added together to build a variety of animal characters from lady bugs to dragons.

Before long I was being handed a steady stream of drawings that each contained significant alterations to Mr. Emberley's originals although, I'm sure he would have been pleased by each.  I had no recourse but to begin covering the refrigerator with them as fast as they came.  In typical Ezra style the last drawing was not from the book but from his very own, very big heart - a tiny hand making the  "I love you" sign.  He's nice.

Meanwhile, on a train of thought far far away, was Calvin.  He had concocted a mouse condo out of cardboard and decked it with all the plush comforts a small rodent could want.  Such as a wet/dry lounging area and a tunnel to the half pipe box.  This explained the series of, "Do you think a mouse could fit through this?" questions.  He was now busily working on a trap to acquire a tenant for his abode. 

A moment of silence washes over the house.  I stop to breathe and realize how amazing it is to be home for a few weeks while SouleMama finishes her manuscript.  Shadows lengthen and the sun gives us a last brilliant display of light as night falls all around.  No two days are alike.  What a beautiful place.

SoulePapa Blogs :: Act Global Think Loco

Mid - Winter.  Snow, freeze, sun, melt, rain, freeze, snow, sleet, melt ... repeat!! 
It's a cruel lesson in expectations and reality.  Spring too far off to ponder and winter too long to believe.  Waking up in darkness so cold it freezes your heart and slows your brain.  The heat sneaks past a veil of clouds and warms your cheeks for a brief glimpse of how things could be if only...if only you lived. SOMEPLACE. ELSE. 

Wood stoves, furnaces, car heaters, bundled children, shovels, plows, ice, sand trucks, scraping windshields, running noses, frozen toeses. 

All that winter fun, so wondrous in those early days of snow,  loses its luster and seems like so much effort for the brief moments of joy it now brings.  Digging deeply into the recesses of your brain to retrieve that scrap of memory which you will drain for all its comfort and hope.  Beach sand.  Bicycles.  Warm Breeze.  You strain to imagine.

Holding tight to that last tattered shred of sanity.  Keeping that warm glint of resolve in your eye.  Letting that icy realization pass over you that this season of darkness will continue.

We move on and scour the horizon for those bits of light.

Man, I love Winter and its challenge to us that we find it's beauty.  Wherever we can.

Calvin Blogs :: twistie ties for my tree

{photo by calvin}

"First, you cut a really long string. Then you cut a really long string in another color. Or you can use the same color, but then it's hard to see. You put the two strings together, and one person holds one end and the other person holds the other end. And you start twisting, but in opposite directions. So if one person goes one way the other person goes the other way. And you twist for a really long time until it's tight. Then you very very carefully bring the two ends together, and the string will get all twisted up. Quick, you have to tie a knot on both ends of the string. And then it's done! A twistie tie! You can put it on your tree, or you can hang it on the walls, or you could keep it in your car for when you need rope to pull you out of the mud and snow and stuff. Just kidding. Bye!"

SoulePapa Blogs :: The Mama

Thank You SouleMama readers!!  For all of the kind, encouraging and touching responses that you've shared with me during my time here, as interim SouleMama.  It is fulfilling on so many levels, to put words and thoughts and feelings out there to share with this community.  I also get a greater appreciation for the effort and love that Amanda puts into this space.  Not to mention the time she puts into her crafty creations, her books and, of course, her children.  Well, perhaps I will mention that time.  The many nights I crash into bed and fall asleep to the productive sounds of SouleMama, emanating from her studio.  The corresponding mornings where I have the unenviable task of peeling her from the bed, before I leave for work, to spend her days with three growing, beautiful yet oft times, demanding children.  Sometimes, even I don't know how she gets it all done.  Maybe it's the power inducing combo of ice cream and wine.  Maybe it's the children that sneak into her studio and perch on a chair just to chat with mama and "help" for a few minutes.  I guess maybe it just has to do with love.  She shares a lot of that (She doesn't share the ice cream).

I know this is an interesting chapter in our lives and we've heard from and been inspired by so many of you out here.  For that I give a heart felt, Thank You.

SoulePapa Blogs :: At Water, In Water, Am Water

At the banks of the river, they climb and laugh and play and make noise.  I find myself staring into the current, mesmerized by the flow.  Into, over, around and down.  Unmercifully, to the sea.
I float and it holds me, suspended on time.  The water of my ancestors, evaporated into dust and rained down to us, filling pools and spilling down mountains.  The very people that worked this river and looked into it's depths to see those before them. 

The sounds of my children playing returns my attention and I warn them to be careful, the current is strong right here.  They recognize it as a force to be respected and adjust their course.  The present is where they live and I am happy to be here, in it, with them.  Maybe one day they will look and see the reflections of the past and stare at them like I do.  Now we walk the banks and swim in the pools and the kids look downstream and ask me what's around the bend.  I haven't been down there before I tell them, but it looks beautiful.  Let's go.

SoulePapa Blogs :: Pirates, Brothers

Bread is broken and torn as the gluttons chew, slurp and belch their way toward a surly contentment.  By nature, a distrusting lot, they hover over their keep like vultures with an eye to the side ready to repel an enemy combatant or a fellow vying for extra scraps.  They sleep.  Heavy and loud but always, always with an ear to the ground, monitoring the perimeter. 

Drawn to battle, like eels to water, trouble finds them quick and often.  They fight and growl and gnash teeth, clashing metal and flesh in an enraged storm of natures most volatile child.  Man. 

When the opportunity to beat another does not present itself, they scrap each other.  Naturally, they are brothers.  Born into a competition of ancient, biblical proportions they are powerless to resist.  But, as hard as they go at it, at no time are they more powerful, more invincible as when they fight back to back.  Swords arching to defend the family against all that comes.   

When things look bleak, their knees weakened and the end near, look closely, you'll see the most amazing thing of all.  They are smiling. 

SoulePapa Blogs :: Seven

Happy Anniversary Week Sweety!!

Yeah.  You guessed it.  This is me on my hands and knees digging up the blueberry bush where I lost my wedding ring, earlier this summer.  You're right, I know.  I should have gotten it resized rather than wear it on my pinkie.  That's behind us now and the blueberries are gone and here I am looking intently for my ring.  Under the blueberry bush.  Although, I think I might need a metal detector.  The one Calvin made, by duct taping a refrigerator magnet to a stick, isn't working.  Anyway...

I love what you create.  As a Mama,  As a Wife,  As my Best Friend... 

I love you.

 

SoulePapa Blogs :: Two

As I type, she climbs on my back in an effort to regain my attention, that I so carelessly diverted, at 9:23p.m. on a Sunday evening.  The attack is relentless and, at times, dangerous.  The stools are stacked, carefully, in an effort to reach her intended target.  Teetering precariously on one foot, she waits until conditions are favorable and leaps.  She is not deterred by injury nor hampered by fear. 
She's two.   

She keeps a running dialogue of her day as it occurs and she demands that you listen intently and respond, thoughtfully.  If she senses a wane in your attention it is swiftly corrected with a two handed face grab into the forced eye to eye gaze. 

When we're on the town she insists on holding my pinkie finger when walking.  She isn't down with the whole hand hold.  Not her style.  Sometimes I'm supposed to be on the left.  Other times I go on the right.  Kinda like an accessory.  It's certainly easier to accommodate than to fight the wee force of nature that is Adelaide.

She's got magic in her heart and will teach you how to find yours if you pay attention to her lessons. 

Resistance is futile (and not very fun). 
Acceptance is divine.