Family Tradition

While I've got my own history of relating to Christmas as a child, I'm conscious that my kids are forming theirs while we grow as a family unit.

I can transport myself forward in time and hear them discussing their father's attempt to take a holiday picture...

"Remember how Dad would tell us all to line up..."

"then he'd fool with the camera and try again..."

" Then everybody would start moving, and you could see him get frustrated.."

" and he'd try again"

"Then Moses would say, 'Can I take a picture dad?'"

" And he'd turn the camera upside down, then we'd ALL have to take a picture if he did it..."


" and I don't think we ever got a good picture out of it..."

too thousand ate

Where've I been? Having more kids. You'd think by now I would have learned. Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water....

This happens:

They call her Ella Bella

Welcome to Shell City

In the SpongeBob movie, the heroes quest for a mythical place called Shell City which they finally reach, only to discover that it's a tourist trappish gift shop. One of the themes of the movie is that it's fine to just be a kid.

In a sly reference to that iconic destination, Moses decided that this year, we would build Shell City....


There's a simple pleasant feeling I get when I picture us at the beach. It's what a psychologist might call my happy place. Every year, I pose with my number one son in the same spot, and watch my self age. It looks like this:



Ruby wanted me to take a picture of her mermaid. She's the one with the exotic eyes, just in case you couldn't tell.



Violet has become a force of nature to be reckoned with. Like Glenn Close's character in Fatal Attraction, she will not be ignored. She enjoys a good snack, and likes to stick near the cooler, just in case someone else might like to enjoy one as well.



I have to change the subtitle in the masthead to reflect 4 kids in six years..

meta-4

The carriage house out at my parent's place can be viewed as a symbol of my side of the family: It's a lumbering unfinished project that sits rusting, unattended for years before someone decides to invest time and resources into its progress.

Let me show you a picture: That's Andy Morgan standing atop the monolith of lumber forms into which concrete will be (theoretically) eventually poured to form massive beams that will compose the core of the carriage house.

A little history: This project was begun in the 1980's, ostensibly as brother Greg's masters thesis (or something like that; as time passes, legend obscures whatever actually happened) The point is, this thing has looked about the same for at least a decade.

But this is the greatest push forward in recent memory. I've been going out there every day that it doesn't rain (or sleet or snow) and building forms for the beams.

While I build the forms, Andy sets the rebar that will reinforce the beams inside the concrete. His twisting and bending of the steel becomes a thing of beauty:

Andy is a long-time family friend whose role alternates between and among associate, enabler, employee, confidant, and supplier of pure maple syrup (his folks left the rat race of northern Virginia for the green mountains of Vermont, and make their own syrup) He's a photographer and building trades professional who has a real knack for rebar.


Then there's the chief. Now that I'm a father, I spend a lot of energy contemplating and analyzing my relationship with my own father. Here he looks like a UN weapons inspector indicating some potentially incriminating evidence: There's a classicality to this pose, as if to say, I'm not the important figure in this picture, allow me to point it out for you.

It's funny to see us all age. I think Greg looks like George Washington, the chief seems to be shrinking, and me, I'm noticably absent from all photographs.

Goat Days

Every year, there's a fall festival at a farm park nearby called Cox's farm. It's a family operation that's become a local mainstay, selling fresh vegetables in the summer, flowers in the spring, christmas trees in winter, and the main event, the fall festival. It's got all the standard features: hayrides, ropeswings, slides, a haunted barn (!), but it's got something else: goats.
It's hard not to love the goats. There are baby ones that wobble around on short legs, old matrons who butt their way into whatever group they want, and the old wizened billy goats who run the pen like lifers in a penitentiary. There's a stand that sells goat feed, and for a quarter a cup, you can feed the goats. There is no warning sign, or any other indicator that taking feed into their pen creates a confrontational situation that people under three feet tall will be unable to negotiate.
Moses' first contact in the pen was with a mean old goat who kicked him in the chest with his front legs to try and shake the cup of feed loose from the young man's hands. A little startled, Moses staggerred backward. The goats saw this as weakness, and advanced on him. Their ploy worked: he dropped the cup and backed away. Welcome to the jungle, little man.
Then we pick a pumpkin that resembles our own head. An odd yellow sherpa advised Moses on his selectionBut somehow, he managed to find a descent one.

Rolling

Rolling out of Cumberland, I started thinking about Bristol- the two towns could be twins. Deserted, desolate, obsolete. Like Bristol, Cumberland has the austere beauty of rust and decay. It's the girl who never left town, grown old and forgotten, but still wistfully reminiscent of her former beauty.
Mose looked out the window, dead serious. Little churches and iron bridges rolled by, sattelites of the desolate center point. It looked like an Arlo Guthrie song, steep inclines and gravel, grey-white pavement and dump trucks in front of the early changing leaves.

Both lost in our thoughts, our meditation was broken by the static-y narration of the engineer. We knew the route pretty well already, so the inaudibility of the announcements didn't affect us. The conductor came into our car, and Mose & I shot each other a look; he's right out of "The Polar Express", down to the details of his wardrobe. He silently punched our tickets as the mighty engine pulled us upward.

Along the route, there were plenty of people who sat out on this cool September Saturday to watch the train go by. At a couple of points, there were folks in the woods with lawn chairs set up, and they smiled and waved as we passed.

I asked Moses how he like it so far. He said great.

We sat quietly again for a while, watching the scenery. One time, I noticed his head bobbing slightly, then, he was out. It's like his switch was thrown. I pulled him onto my lap and snapped a photo.

I sat thinking about him, and about me, as well as about my own father. He snored quietly, the little bear. The train pulled into the frostburg station, which was our turnaround point. Like a duffel bag, I manuvered the sleeper through the aisle, and down the steps. Everyone who saw me smiled; some whispered "too exciting?" or something along those lines.
As I came around the depot, there was the mighty Mountain Thunder thrumming and hissing, heated up from the long pull up the incline. I didn't want to wake Moses, but at the same time, didn't want him to miss this moment with his object du obession.
I sat him gently on a park bench and watched his reaction. As he came to, he stared at the steam engine in repose, he looked around to get his bearings and said "Dad, there she is" he always refers to mountain Thunder as "she".

We posed for a picture or two, then went to buy a box lunch from the nice ladies who sell them by the depot steps. We joined some other train enthusiasts as we dined on turkey sandwiches, just yards from the giant machine. After a while, a bell rang, and the engine pulled forward onto the turntable, where it spun around more than once, which seemed as much for effect as for utility.

Pretty soon, we re-boarded, but not before we stopped back by the nice ladies' table for a pack of cookies for the long ride down the mountain back to cumberland.

Mountain Thunder

We set out on a bright autumn Friday for Uncle Andy's place with a three-fold mission: To celebrate cousin Garrett's first birthday; for Kathy to run in a 5K race; for Moses and I to finally ride the legendary steam engine, Mountain Thunder.
Stopping for gas outside Frederick, Maryland, Kathy and Violet got out to stretch. Violet kept looking at me, and as I tried to sneak a picture, she stuck out her tongue.
When we arrived, Aunt Lori incited Moses and Ruby to help make the birthday cake. They're excellent bakers.
Morning at Uncle Andy's place is amazing. He and Aunt Laurie live on the top of a mountain outside of Cumberland. From their porch, you can see all the way to Romney, West Virginia. That's pretty far.
We didn't make it to the race. I took a wrong turn and wasted about 45 minutes, which was just enough to see everyone standing around the finish line as I arrived with all three kids. Whoops. Kathy said she didn't run well, and felt heavy-legged.
Moving right along, Moses and I walked over to the train station to wait for Mountain Thunder's arrival. Moses was decked out in his conductor's hat, bandana, matching conductor shorts and his pocket watch.
It was like travelling with a celebrity. A lot of the old-timers wanted to chat with the Mose man about his interest in trains. The most common opening salvo included a variation on the phrase "You look like you could be driving this train", which Moses liked very much. He talked with some really interesting people, sharing his enthusiasm and enjoying that of others.

Finally, after a very long wait, the mighty Consolidation pulled into the station. The actual presence of Mountain Thunder is a powerful and intimidating thing, and I could see Moses' trepidation. Only his undying devotion to this odd piece of railroad history calmed his anxiety.
In case you didn't know, Mountain Thunder is a 1916 Baldwin Consolidation 2-8-0 that spent it's working life with the Lake Superior & Ishpeming Railroad. Moses and I walked up the steps and past the conductor, who instead of saying "All Aboard" greeted us with "Watch Your Step", which is probably a lot more useful. We took our seats, and Moses watched out the window until we heard a bell, then a great blast of the whistle as the engine belched smoke and pulled forward. Next stop, Frostburg Maryland.