Dupont, Locust and Brothers

Ryan and Maya

I didn't even know Dupont had a park!  Apparently right down the road-ish from my home is a lovely hiking area.  Ryan filled me in.  Maya, Sean, Patsy, Ryan and I all met at Dean's Deli (yum! they make the best sandwiches and deviled eggs).  We then piled into Ryan's truck and went for a lovely hike to Triple Falls at Dupont State Park.  Ryan does a killer Bear Gryls impression - the things you learn about your siblings.  I also learned that Reagan is brilliant at recounting his gruesome motorcross injuries.  We are talking details!  It was a great day, beautiful weather and few people. 

 

Triple Falls

We also drove to Locust, NC to visit my good friend, Roxanne and her family.  I am lucky to have some great friends that no matter how long it has been since I have seen them it still seems like we just parted last week.    That being said, it was Locust so there were urine bombs and guns involved in the day <grin>.  It is The South, after all.




Finally, we kept an old family tradition of hitting Piggy's and Harry's on Saturday nights.  Yummy pulled pork sandwiches and fab ice cream.  All of us plus Patsy's husband, Vern.  It looks the same as when we used to come here when I was a kid - Maya's age actually.  It was, again, a moment of culture shock for my girl.  I get such joy she brings to me with her reactions.
 



The front of Piggy's and Harry's.  Hooterville is Hendersonville's nickname.

 

 On a different note, my mom has been gone for four years now.  I thought I had grieved but apparently I wasn't done.  I have become accustomed to not getting her calls (sort of), not automatically calling her with every little bit of the minutea of my life (sort of), reading a passage in a book and her getting immediately why it was important (sort of).  It has been over a thousand days and well over a thousand moments - I have adjusted, sort of. 
In truth, in NC during the day, hanging out with my kids and seeing friends and family was fun and joyful.  But at night after the kids crashed, I cried - a lot.  I don't think my dad quite knew what to do with me - except to offer to cook me cheesetoast and provide as much Cheerwine as I could take in.  God love him, he did great.  Being home at the house without Mom was more difficult that I had anticipated.  It was my first extended visit home.  My mom's passion was her house and not having her there to show me all the new projects she had been working on since I had last visited and having a stack of articles and magazines she had saved for me to read by my bed was a difficult reality.  We always had our favorite shops and eats.  I went alone to those trying to keep my promise to live for us both.  I would see, do, hear, love, laugh, sing, learn, live for us both is what I told her.  I tried but it was sad and lonely.  When someone dies, no matter how hard you try, parts of you dies with them.   So, in NC, I officially buried that part of me that died with her.    And that was as it should be, but I miss my mom and I miss the girl I once was with her.

Ireland begins next post.
I swear.                                                                                             

The continuing tradition - or the pervasive smell of stale sweat

Because of my Dad's lifelong interest in karate, growing up I spent a lot of time at his various dojo through the years.  Either working out or hanging out.  There were the rented spaces at the YMCA that he would run after a long day being a Marine (I am not sure exactly what "being a Marine" entailed but I am sure it was super important!)  We were always surrounded by his karate students and friends - and all of them had nicknames.  I rarely knew anyone's real names - it was like I was surrounded by comic book characters and if I ever did find out there real names it was quite a letdown.  There was "The Wookie" in High Point who I think was really tall (I was only 7-ish so everyone was rated in the tall category to me) and convinced me that the reason he grew so tall was because he ate peanut shells.  So I would crack open peanuts, give them to the brothers and down the shells.  Thank goodness they were salted.  It's a wonder I didn't die that summer in my fervent devotion to grow. 

And then there was Atha Plaza in Hendersonville, NC.  There are only about 5 shops in this strip mall and Dad's dojo has been in about all of them.  I think Dad will stay in his current location as it is the last shop in the mall and he has nowhere else to go.  What is consistent in all of these various spots is the smell.  It is pretty indescribable, really, but you know it when you smell it.  It may not be pleasant but smells like home.  Well, only in the soulful sense - not literal.  I was so excited because this trip because my boy, who has joined a dojo here in the Seattle area,  is finally old enough to train with his Poppy.  So off we went for his first class.

I haven't been in the dojo for many years.  The last time I was here I knew just about everyone and they me.  This time I knew no one but many weirdly knew many details of my life.  Patsy was really sweet and made sure to be there to help with the very newest ones which would include Sean.  I was worried about how he would do since Dad takes kids no younger than 8 and Sean just turned 5 but he was amazing.  He worked so hard to get everything right.  He really paid attention.   But bless his heart, he didn't have the coordination for jumping jacks (legs and arms going every which way) and he couldn't understand why everyone kept calling his Poppy, Sensei.  Not being shy he made sure to correct one and all.  The kids there were amazing with him.  Introducing themselves and really being aware of his smaller size and abilities.  I was super impressed.

This is his first time holding the kicking bag for the blond kid.  He stood firm and really braced himself but still got kicked mostly to the wall.

Then it was his turn to do the kicking.

He then got to experience some "wrasslin'".  This green belt was reminded "emphatically" that this was Sensei Perry's grandson and to be careful but I don't think it mattered.  I suspect he would have been as good with him regardless.  Sean had a huge smile the entire time.

And he had strong enough character to let Sean feel what it was like to be on top also.

Some final words from Sensei Perry.  Sean thought his red belt was the "coolest"!

These smiles make my heart melt into a big puddle of butter (it's a southern thing - it must be butter.  Out here on the West Coast maybe a puddle of organic silken tofu? - locally grown, of course)

How it all started...

"I can't believe I'm going to Ireland!" "I'm going to Ireland!", "I'm going to Ireland", "I'm going to Ireland". And so the litany went over and over in my head that afternoon in October of 2010. I had just gotten off the phone with my Dad who kindly said he would take me along on one of his Karate seminars to Athlone, Ireland. It seemed fated. I had just turned 40 and wanted to do something to mark that fact. We were flying into the Shannon Airport, staying at the Shannon Oaks Hotel which is on the River Shannon and just so happened to be on Shannon Rd. Every cell of my being was calling to go and weirdly seemed that Ireland was calling me back as well. On that drive I just couldn't stop smiling. I wasn't just smiling with my mouth, but with my fingertips and toes. Such a ray of sunshine during some very cloudy times.

For a while I didn't even want to tell anyone. I wanted this little secret all to myself to soak in. This was very unlike me - I am usually "overly" open about everything but this was one happiness that was mine and mine alone and I wanted to keep the special feeling as close as possible for as long as possible. My Dad had handed me a beautiful gift and I will never be able to let him know how much it has meant to me. Although I have tried repeatedly, with big words, small words, tears and smiles to convey my joy.

My good sister/friend Patsy agreed to be "blessed" with my children for the 10 days I would be gone. She had a lot going on in her own life but without a hint of hesitation agreed to have the munchkins. A true angel. They had such a good time with her and her family (she and Vern are the only ones who will take my kids camping). I left for NC a week before I was due to leave for Ireland.

Our visit in NC was fantastic. My kids who have not grown up in the South always have a bit of culture shock when we visit. "Mom, there are so many churches!" And "So much brick!" Also, "Why do we have to eat at Chick-Fil-A every day?" (It's called culture, children, now eat your waffle fries!) 

We visited the Carl Sandberg home where I put on plays from the Rootabaga Stories  when I was in Elementery School. I bought a copy of the Rootabaga Stores for my kids and we are reading them now. Mrs. Sandberg was really into goats (don't understand that myself) and the descendents of her flocks are still there. Two babies had just been born and my kids really loved playing with the adults.


Carl Sandberg Home



Maya's goat's eyes rolled back in its head when she scratched it!




Seannie is always ready for a pose!

 



Me at my favorite gate