The air has changed. It has a crispness to it now. Sweatshirts are beginning to creep into the sun. The leaves are turning red, yellow, orange. Some are caught by the wind and littering the landscape in a kaleidoscope of color. Apples are big and bold on the branch, ripe for the picking. The back roads that lead to the orchards are clogged with city folk looking to take some apples, and a little bit of country air, home with them. Pumpkins sit upon the roadside on wagons or in bins waiting to be carved into Jack-o-lanterns. There might even be a pie baking somewhere, sprinkled with nutmeg and cinnamon. Cider, or hard cider depending on the nip in the air, fills the cooler and the fridge. Autumn has arrived.
I enjoy the Fall. The color, the coolness, the smell of woodsmoke in the air. Football season is in full swing, complete with cheese platters and snacks galore. Peeling apples in the cool afternoon, filling the house with the aroma of apple pies baking, of applesauce bubbling on the stove, and of plain old baked apples filled with butter and cinnamon cooling on the sill. The sun tries to chase the slight chill from the afternoon air and is kept at bay with a mouthful of ice cold cider. But apples are not the only fruit to shine. Recipes for pies made of pumpkins are being honed for the upcoming holidays. Other orange-skinned mammoths are being nurtured out in the patch to finish their growth into perfect carvers. The snaggled-tooth designs are already waiting in the minds of the kids for the day we cut the vines and bring the pumpkins to the house.
The opening of hunting seasons has come. There is small game and birds, archery deer, and the promise of fall turkey and bear yet to come. The deer have begun to don their winter coats. The turkeys are foraging heavy for the coming winter. And the bear travel far and wide while fattening themselves for the den. The woods seem alive and so do I as I move among the trees. There is much to look forward to, to dream about.
My head is filled with all these thoughts as the breeze brushes the curtains aside and forces me deeper under the covers. The steel grey of an October morning is fighting its way under my eyelids. And then I hear it, breaking the morning silence, cutting through the sleepy haze under the covers...a turkey yelp....and then another. A cluck here, a cut there, and then another yelp. What a glorious racket. I spring from the bed, quickly dress and run down the hall to wake my youngest daughter. She has been haunting me for the opportunity to go hunting and although it is Sunday, and hunting is not allowed, this is a great chance to get close to some wildlife. She jumps from her bed straight into her clothes and somehow has a turkey call in hand as if she had been sleeping with it.
We have barely made it off the porch when we spot the birds pilfering the last of the blueberries from the garden. The flock breaks up, some flying one way while others sprint the other. We arrive at the scene of the crime and begin talking turkey. Within five minutes a group of stragglers sneak by only 15 feet from our seats on a garden rock. They spot us and wander away and we reposition ourselves in the nook of a maple stump between the little group and the rest of the flock. The better part of the next hour is spent listening to turkeys answer my daughter's "practice calls" and waving to neighbors as they drive by with weird looks on their faces. I'm not sure if it was because it was Sunday or because turkey season doesn't open for another month, or because we were dressed in some combination of camo and pajamas, but their looks were strange.
The early morning's frost and the chilly breeze coming off the creek finally turned my daughter's hands into quivering little icicles. We brushed off our damp rear ends and headed back for the warmth of the house. A few steps into our journey and turkeys were busting all over the place. As we opened the door the smell of bacon and cornbread led us right to the table. My wife had already assembled a "hunter's" breakfast for us and our bellies would not be denied. There is something magical about the Fall, about sitting on a stump with your child in the chill morning air with the excitement of discovery thick in the air. There is magic in the beat of a turkey's wings and the yelp that cuts the wind. Magic is bacon and eggs and cornbread and applesauce and pumpkin pie. The falling leaves hide it sometimes but the trees hold the magic of the season. The magic escapes when you lift the lid on the carving pumpkin and fills the room, spooky cobwebs and all.
Do not waste the autumnal magic sitting in front of the computer screen. Power down, X out, and get outside. Fill your lungs with cool air. The woods are alive as are the farmers markets and roadside pumpkin stands. Enjoy it before the white stuff dumps from the heavens and new magic fills the day.
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
A Farewell to Summer
The summer season has been gone for a couple of days now. The heat seems to be fading. The air conditioner has retreated to its place in storage as the nights have grown sweatshirt chilly. The sun no longer bakes the sidewalk as we follow it to the schoolyard gates. The ringing of the school bell serves to reinforce that summer is truly over. My house has grown quiet now, for a few hours, as the kids resume their studies in the classrooms. The cool breeze rustling the curtains and carrying the laughter of the kids in the playground during recess gives me pause and a time to recall the memories made this past season.
Our summer began with a trip to DC to celebrate with 250,000 Girl Scouts the 100th anniversary of the organization. The kids were able to spend quality time with their grandparents, doing chores on the farm, helping Grandma (and the seniors) at the county's Senior Center, and swimming in their new pool, filled with icy spring water. The county fair is always a highlight, especially the 4H and livestock displays, although nowadays the trend seems to be moving away from the grassroots and agriculture, mason jars and hayrides and replacing them with carnival rides and boardwalk games complete with hawkers. The summer nights were filled with old-fashioned ice cream windows, dripping cones and fireflies. The croaking of the bullfrogs sang to us as the grill glowed into the summer evenings. The hay was put up early this year, leaving time for some relaxation, and completing some other chores usually not thought about until cooler times.
This summer my kids discovered geocaching, an ingenious way of getting them outside. It is a treasure hunt of sorts, using a GPS, some coordinates obtained from the computer, and some hiking. Throughout the country are hidden little treasure boxes, caches, holding a log book to sign in and some trinkets to trade. By now, they are well versed in the usage of a GPS (Dad loves this aspect), acquiring and applying coordinates (another great aspect), and observing their surroundings for things that seem out of place (wow, 3 for 3). They can not wait to get outside, to go hiking (or caching), and explore new places. With school in full swing, homework is done immediately in the hopes of having some daylight left to get out and look for a new little treasure.
Summer's last hurrah was a road trip to Elysburg, PA and the amusement park in the woods. Knoebels is always a highlight, a rabbit hole in the woods, where old-timey rides go to live forever in their past glory. The admission is free, the paths are shaded, the crowds easily tolerable, and the smiles long. The kids brought one of their friends (and her family) this year. We laughed and ran from ride to ride. The day was shortened by storms but not before we boarded the roller coaster one last time. We have ridden roller coasters before. We have ridden the Twister before. But we have never ridden in a storm before. The young man controlling the ride sent us on our way with an ominous warning that we were on the log flume and that at the top of the ride it looked as if the skies were about to burst. As the clickety-clack of the climbing coaster brought us to the peak of the ride, the clouds unleashed their cargo. The heavens opened and the wind howled. We were pelted by raindrops the size of quarters and it came at us sideways, held captive by the wind. Our clothes were quickly saturated but our smiles could not be wiped clean. We all laughed, almost maniacally, into the face of the storm. The booming thunder punctuated our ride and the operator ended our ride with a "Thank you for riding the washer machine" and that was exactly what a ride inside a washing machine would be like, loud, soaking, swirling.
The summer has ended now. The memories held close, both in our minds and some caught forever through the eye of a lens. The coming cooler weather holds more adventures but for now we must say farewell to Summer.
Our summer began with a trip to DC to celebrate with 250,000 Girl Scouts the 100th anniversary of the organization. The kids were able to spend quality time with their grandparents, doing chores on the farm, helping Grandma (and the seniors) at the county's Senior Center, and swimming in their new pool, filled with icy spring water. The county fair is always a highlight, especially the 4H and livestock displays, although nowadays the trend seems to be moving away from the grassroots and agriculture, mason jars and hayrides and replacing them with carnival rides and boardwalk games complete with hawkers. The summer nights were filled with old-fashioned ice cream windows, dripping cones and fireflies. The croaking of the bullfrogs sang to us as the grill glowed into the summer evenings. The hay was put up early this year, leaving time for some relaxation, and completing some other chores usually not thought about until cooler times.
This summer my kids discovered geocaching, an ingenious way of getting them outside. It is a treasure hunt of sorts, using a GPS, some coordinates obtained from the computer, and some hiking. Throughout the country are hidden little treasure boxes, caches, holding a log book to sign in and some trinkets to trade. By now, they are well versed in the usage of a GPS (Dad loves this aspect), acquiring and applying coordinates (another great aspect), and observing their surroundings for things that seem out of place (wow, 3 for 3). They can not wait to get outside, to go hiking (or caching), and explore new places. With school in full swing, homework is done immediately in the hopes of having some daylight left to get out and look for a new little treasure.
Summer's last hurrah was a road trip to Elysburg, PA and the amusement park in the woods. Knoebels is always a highlight, a rabbit hole in the woods, where old-timey rides go to live forever in their past glory. The admission is free, the paths are shaded, the crowds easily tolerable, and the smiles long. The kids brought one of their friends (and her family) this year. We laughed and ran from ride to ride. The day was shortened by storms but not before we boarded the roller coaster one last time. We have ridden roller coasters before. We have ridden the Twister before. But we have never ridden in a storm before. The young man controlling the ride sent us on our way with an ominous warning that we were on the log flume and that at the top of the ride it looked as if the skies were about to burst. As the clickety-clack of the climbing coaster brought us to the peak of the ride, the clouds unleashed their cargo. The heavens opened and the wind howled. We were pelted by raindrops the size of quarters and it came at us sideways, held captive by the wind. Our clothes were quickly saturated but our smiles could not be wiped clean. We all laughed, almost maniacally, into the face of the storm. The booming thunder punctuated our ride and the operator ended our ride with a "Thank you for riding the washer machine" and that was exactly what a ride inside a washing machine would be like, loud, soaking, swirling.
The summer has ended now. The memories held close, both in our minds and some caught forever through the eye of a lens. The coming cooler weather holds more adventures but for now we must say farewell to Summer.
Thursday, August 16, 2012
"The Right Thing To Do"
I have been raised to do the right thing. From young I have been taught, by both example and discipline, to carry myself a certain way. Please and thank you, a question deserves a response, look people in the eye when they are talking to you are all important blocks in the solid foundation of a growing boy. A solid handshake that when necessary acts as a guarantee to fulfill the words that were spoken and those words should carry the weight of a legal document. Honesty, not only to add the weight to the words, but in the path of life chosen. Lying was a highly punishable offense growing up, tantamount to thievery, a sacrilege that could be met with stoning. Always meet your commitments, especially if it is an inconvenience, those were usually the most important ones, that had the most importance to and impact on the people around you. Never walk away from obligations whether it be a team sport, a delegated assignment, a promise to a friend, or a family member in need. You should always leave things better than you found them and you should give more than you take. It is never a hand-out but a hand-up, even to strangers because there are always those that need it more than we do. Above and beyond is the norm not the exception and quitting was, is, and never will be an option.
This is the foundation of my life. Perhaps most of it reeks of cliche, especially now, reading the words as I write them but they are my life. They are the terms on which I live. This is how I have met my wife and built a family, first through giving and promises upheld and then through honesty and commitment. This is how a loving farm has been built, hand-in-hand with family with care and hard work. "An honest day's pay for an honest day's work" has led me to this place in life and I am thankful. I have the things I do because of the foundation my parent's helped me build through the years by both hugs and the belt when needed. My wife keeps me along that path now much the same way and we raise our children on the same strong ground. And, my friends are my friends because of this.
However, as of late, I have become aware, perhaps because of age, either of me or my kids, that the circle of friends has dwindled, that the immediate world around me, for the most part, no longer shares my ideals. At times, I feel as if my kindness, my patience, my willingness to bend, to give is mistaken for weakness, for a trait worth exploiting. What I had perceived as friends for years are no longer present, some caught up in the never-ending pursuit of "things" or "status" or, perhaps, just the mindless pursuit that keeps them insulated from the life they have created. Some have been entangled in a web of their own creation, untruths so deep they do not know how to climb out. Others have found the commitment to honesty too high, as their selfish goals became apparent. And still others have reached their goals and our usefulness to them has run out. They have taken what they needed and do not intend to give back and so they move on. I have shared many years and great memories with most of these people. They are forever woven into the fabric of my life. I do not begrudge them their pursuits, I was not raised that way. Though I do harbor, some days, frustration with some, as we have shared so much and some are so close, that I do not understand their choices or the paths they follow. I can not change them but I can stand firm on my foundation and know that I will still be here when, and if, they return.
Sometimes I wonder if I have set my expectations of others too high, if I have doomed my children to a fate similar to mine, a small circle of family and friends. But then I look at the people that are still by my side, the true friendships I have, the family I share holidays and memories and years with, the partner in life that holds my hand, and I know that I am on the right path. It may be less traveled but it is the one I should be on. It is the one I will put my children on and hope they do not stray. And I know they will not because I have seen it with the family of my closest friends. I have lived it. My parents still live it to this day. From strong roots grow strong trees, this is more than a cliche, it is life.
This is the foundation of my life. Perhaps most of it reeks of cliche, especially now, reading the words as I write them but they are my life. They are the terms on which I live. This is how I have met my wife and built a family, first through giving and promises upheld and then through honesty and commitment. This is how a loving farm has been built, hand-in-hand with family with care and hard work. "An honest day's pay for an honest day's work" has led me to this place in life and I am thankful. I have the things I do because of the foundation my parent's helped me build through the years by both hugs and the belt when needed. My wife keeps me along that path now much the same way and we raise our children on the same strong ground. And, my friends are my friends because of this.
However, as of late, I have become aware, perhaps because of age, either of me or my kids, that the circle of friends has dwindled, that the immediate world around me, for the most part, no longer shares my ideals. At times, I feel as if my kindness, my patience, my willingness to bend, to give is mistaken for weakness, for a trait worth exploiting. What I had perceived as friends for years are no longer present, some caught up in the never-ending pursuit of "things" or "status" or, perhaps, just the mindless pursuit that keeps them insulated from the life they have created. Some have been entangled in a web of their own creation, untruths so deep they do not know how to climb out. Others have found the commitment to honesty too high, as their selfish goals became apparent. And still others have reached their goals and our usefulness to them has run out. They have taken what they needed and do not intend to give back and so they move on. I have shared many years and great memories with most of these people. They are forever woven into the fabric of my life. I do not begrudge them their pursuits, I was not raised that way. Though I do harbor, some days, frustration with some, as we have shared so much and some are so close, that I do not understand their choices or the paths they follow. I can not change them but I can stand firm on my foundation and know that I will still be here when, and if, they return.
Sometimes I wonder if I have set my expectations of others too high, if I have doomed my children to a fate similar to mine, a small circle of family and friends. But then I look at the people that are still by my side, the true friendships I have, the family I share holidays and memories and years with, the partner in life that holds my hand, and I know that I am on the right path. It may be less traveled but it is the one I should be on. It is the one I will put my children on and hope they do not stray. And I know they will not because I have seen it with the family of my closest friends. I have lived it. My parents still live it to this day. From strong roots grow strong trees, this is more than a cliche, it is life.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Gettysburg -- Ghosts and Growlers
This summer's adventures, so far, have had fireworks, good food and friends, and several road trips. The latest one being a family reunion in Gettysburg, PA. This was the first reunion for my wife's side of the family. Several relatives drove cross-country from the West and Midwest. Most came from various towns throughout New Jersey. We all met at a KOA campground near the historic Gettysburg battlefield. Luckily for the kids, my wife and I had scouted the campground last year, so they had already experienced the enormity of the battlefield and heard the tales of soldiers on both sides of the war and toured the old farm homes turned rustic inns. Our weekend trip this time around consisted more of old family stories and meeting long, lost relatives that seemed more like strangers.
My wife spent the day catching up while the kids valiantly fought boredom. The older kids of the other families (mostly teenagers) graciously played campground games with my kids, keeping them busy while the adults tried to fit years of living into a few short hours. There were plenty of the older generation represented, grandmothers and great-aunts, some who had never met before. The teenagers and twenty-somethings were more than happy to participate in a road trip to see parts of history and share their own family's history. The middle generation, the 30's and 40's, the growing families of younger children, 'tweens, and even some teens, was disappointingly absent. They all were too consumed in their own universes to take the time to make the trip and possibly the sole chance to see and meet family from across the country. My wife was especially disappointed that the kids did not get the chance to see some of their unknown or little-visited cousins. I think she wanted some more interaction with family her own age to recount old family legends. She, however, found great joy in her time with her westerly relations.
The reward for being a good husband and minding my P's and Q's was a stop at the local brewery. I had looked forward to stopping at Appalachian Brewing since our visit last year. It is one of life's little pleasures to return home from the road with a fresh gallon of quality crafted beer. Three varieties were enough to keep the cooler partly full (I was secretly planning on passing a few other breweries on the way home, so a partly filled cooler was mandatory.)
Down the road from the brewery is the "main strip" of Gettysburg, a short run of craft, souvenir, and period clothing stores with a few "ghost-hunting" tourist traps sprinkled in. The kids would never allow us a trip to Gettysburg without stopping at Gettysburg Paranormal. They love ghost-hunting and they love to be scared silly, even if it's not right at that moment. Last year, they enjoyed a family-friendly adventure through the outskirts of the battlefield with a Paranormal guide, Cori. She was a wonderfully informative guide filled with old Civil War legends and a knack for keeping the kids interested. Unfortunately, she was already booked for the evening and the kids really wanted to try something a little more intense. So we made a reservation for the the night-time, adult tour and GPA made an exception for our kids to participate because of their prior experience. Some of the teens from the reunion joined in and the ghost hunt was on. Without getting into details, some kids bailed out halfway through due to eerie feelings and chills and our kids needed "some air" at the last room (In their defense, creepy mannequins in a dark room dressed like Civil War soldiers hidden in bushes was a little unsettling even to the adults). In the light of the following morning, tears of fright and scary goose bumps were replaced by smiles and timid requests to return next year to be scared again.
The road home led us through Amish country, and we were able to catch plenty of glimpses of horses and buggies. The farmland was therapeutic, ever-flowing waves of green across the landscape. We somehow needed gas right outside Lancaster and the Lancaster Brewing Company seemed the logical stop for lunch. Their food was excellent but their beer sampler was a little extreme for road trippers (14 5oz. glasses of everything they make seems a little excessive in the middle of a three hour tour). The wife and kids voted on six of the best sounding brews to sample and the food followed shortly thereafter. The Turkey Hill Experience was a roadside attraction the kids begged to see and it gave me time to peruse the map and local attractions brochures. The two lane brought us past more farms, more buggies, and, mysteriously, another brewery, Rumspringa. What a quaint little place, very airy, rustic and filled with beer worth a return trip, a gem of sorts among the crop fields.
We were all happy to have our own beds underneath us by the day's end but a new reunion, a couple of years off, is already in the works. Hopefully, this time, everyone can make the effort, take the time, to visit. But, if not, I'm sure a brewery or three will mysteriously pop up along the route along with some ghosts of time gone by.
My wife spent the day catching up while the kids valiantly fought boredom. The older kids of the other families (mostly teenagers) graciously played campground games with my kids, keeping them busy while the adults tried to fit years of living into a few short hours. There were plenty of the older generation represented, grandmothers and great-aunts, some who had never met before. The teenagers and twenty-somethings were more than happy to participate in a road trip to see parts of history and share their own family's history. The middle generation, the 30's and 40's, the growing families of younger children, 'tweens, and even some teens, was disappointingly absent. They all were too consumed in their own universes to take the time to make the trip and possibly the sole chance to see and meet family from across the country. My wife was especially disappointed that the kids did not get the chance to see some of their unknown or little-visited cousins. I think she wanted some more interaction with family her own age to recount old family legends. She, however, found great joy in her time with her westerly relations.
The reward for being a good husband and minding my P's and Q's was a stop at the local brewery. I had looked forward to stopping at Appalachian Brewing since our visit last year. It is one of life's little pleasures to return home from the road with a fresh gallon of quality crafted beer. Three varieties were enough to keep the cooler partly full (I was secretly planning on passing a few other breweries on the way home, so a partly filled cooler was mandatory.)
Down the road from the brewery is the "main strip" of Gettysburg, a short run of craft, souvenir, and period clothing stores with a few "ghost-hunting" tourist traps sprinkled in. The kids would never allow us a trip to Gettysburg without stopping at Gettysburg Paranormal. They love ghost-hunting and they love to be scared silly, even if it's not right at that moment. Last year, they enjoyed a family-friendly adventure through the outskirts of the battlefield with a Paranormal guide, Cori. She was a wonderfully informative guide filled with old Civil War legends and a knack for keeping the kids interested. Unfortunately, she was already booked for the evening and the kids really wanted to try something a little more intense. So we made a reservation for the the night-time, adult tour and GPA made an exception for our kids to participate because of their prior experience. Some of the teens from the reunion joined in and the ghost hunt was on. Without getting into details, some kids bailed out halfway through due to eerie feelings and chills and our kids needed "some air" at the last room (In their defense, creepy mannequins in a dark room dressed like Civil War soldiers hidden in bushes was a little unsettling even to the adults). In the light of the following morning, tears of fright and scary goose bumps were replaced by smiles and timid requests to return next year to be scared again.
The road home led us through Amish country, and we were able to catch plenty of glimpses of horses and buggies. The farmland was therapeutic, ever-flowing waves of green across the landscape. We somehow needed gas right outside Lancaster and the Lancaster Brewing Company seemed the logical stop for lunch. Their food was excellent but their beer sampler was a little extreme for road trippers (14 5oz. glasses of everything they make seems a little excessive in the middle of a three hour tour). The wife and kids voted on six of the best sounding brews to sample and the food followed shortly thereafter. The Turkey Hill Experience was a roadside attraction the kids begged to see and it gave me time to peruse the map and local attractions brochures. The two lane brought us past more farms, more buggies, and, mysteriously, another brewery, Rumspringa. What a quaint little place, very airy, rustic and filled with beer worth a return trip, a gem of sorts among the crop fields.
We were all happy to have our own beds underneath us by the day's end but a new reunion, a couple of years off, is already in the works. Hopefully, this time, everyone can make the effort, take the time, to visit. But, if not, I'm sure a brewery or three will mysteriously pop up along the route along with some ghosts of time gone by.
Monday, July 23, 2012
Spanish Flair
For Macy's spectacular fireworks display on the Hudson River, we had decided to go the more extravagant route and dip into the bank account. We secured reservations to a restaurant offering VIP parking and seating right on the riverfront for the 4th of July. The kids excitement was not only contagious but well worth the effort. The day might have been blistering hot but the warm summer breeze as the sun faded on the water was comforting. We were able to drive right down to the waterfront with the windows open, soaking in the sights and sounds of the city electric. The kids were bouncing from window to window in the back seat as we were waved through each successive road block and check point. The roads were empty of traffic as we cleared the final barricade and headed for the valet stand.
We needed to arrive nearly an hour ahead of our reservation to ensure passage through the multiple checkpoints and building traffic for the anticipated fireworks. No one seemed to mind, however. And once we left the car behind, the hour of waiting for our reservation time to come seemed to only be part of the adventure. The kids spent their time watching all the boats bobbing on the river, jockeying for the best spot on the water. It was like a giant floating city of partying and BBQ. The NYFD was well represented on the water and their firefighting ships were putting on quite a display in their own right, blasting multi-colored water in every direction. Somewhere above us music drifted through the summer air and added to the atmosphere. Our table time was a distant thought when it arrived.
Our outside, riverfront dining was exceptional. We watched formations of helicopters fly over head as we sipped sangria at our table. The kids experimented with lobster ceviche and picadillo as the last rays of the day turned the river a magical purple hue. Our main course was brought to the table in spectacular fashion, as the NY skyline shimmered with fiery blasts. Sparks and booms filled the night sky and paella, arroz imperial, and sole del alma filled our table. Each forkful was celebrated with its own bursting spectacle. Taste buds exploded with flavor and new found favorites as eyes were filled with the wonder of fire in the sky. As a dad, I had captured lightning in a bottle, and an unforgettable dining experience, an event not soon to be replicated, boyfriends beware. The crowd began to dwindle as dessert arrived. Plates were traded or placed in the middle of the table so all the selections could be sampled by everyone. Trio of flan was hard to come by as my oldest somehow hid it away. An enormous helping of tres leches bested my little one, ensuring a taste for everyone. Churros were an afterthought, a dessert after dessert, to be nibbled on as I enjoyed a cafe con leche basking in the success of this special evening.
The ride home was quiet, everyone sleeping with full bellies. I creeped home in the waning traffic, smiling the whole way. Son Cubano was a the perfect restaurant on the perfect day. In the end I silently thanked my Spanish friends for the spattering of phrases that impressed both my waiter and my family and for the experiences they have opened my children to.
We needed to arrive nearly an hour ahead of our reservation to ensure passage through the multiple checkpoints and building traffic for the anticipated fireworks. No one seemed to mind, however. And once we left the car behind, the hour of waiting for our reservation time to come seemed to only be part of the adventure. The kids spent their time watching all the boats bobbing on the river, jockeying for the best spot on the water. It was like a giant floating city of partying and BBQ. The NYFD was well represented on the water and their firefighting ships were putting on quite a display in their own right, blasting multi-colored water in every direction. Somewhere above us music drifted through the summer air and added to the atmosphere. Our table time was a distant thought when it arrived.
Our outside, riverfront dining was exceptional. We watched formations of helicopters fly over head as we sipped sangria at our table. The kids experimented with lobster ceviche and picadillo as the last rays of the day turned the river a magical purple hue. Our main course was brought to the table in spectacular fashion, as the NY skyline shimmered with fiery blasts. Sparks and booms filled the night sky and paella, arroz imperial, and sole del alma filled our table. Each forkful was celebrated with its own bursting spectacle. Taste buds exploded with flavor and new found favorites as eyes were filled with the wonder of fire in the sky. As a dad, I had captured lightning in a bottle, and an unforgettable dining experience, an event not soon to be replicated, boyfriends beware. The crowd began to dwindle as dessert arrived. Plates were traded or placed in the middle of the table so all the selections could be sampled by everyone. Trio of flan was hard to come by as my oldest somehow hid it away. An enormous helping of tres leches bested my little one, ensuring a taste for everyone. Churros were an afterthought, a dessert after dessert, to be nibbled on as I enjoyed a cafe con leche basking in the success of this special evening.
The ride home was quiet, everyone sleeping with full bellies. I creeped home in the waning traffic, smiling the whole way. Son Cubano was a the perfect restaurant on the perfect day. In the end I silently thanked my Spanish friends for the spattering of phrases that impressed both my waiter and my family and for the experiences they have opened my children to.
Big Thanks
....to Verizon for finally getting my internet service back, or was it just the weather cooling off slightly to allow the infrastructure to resume working? (THe favorite excuse of Verizon, service that does not operate during heat waves.) Either way I have been backlogged long enough. The words will now continue to flow.
Thursday, June 14, 2012
The Capitol
In keeping with the current trend, this past weekend was spent celebrating the 100th Anniversary of Girl Scouting. This event called for a road trip to our nation's capitol. It also called for a crowd of 250,000 scouts. The whole thing truly put into perspective the scope of Girl Scouts. My children witnessed first-hand the reach of the organization as they looked out upon the sea of Girl Scouts spread across the National Mall from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. A visit to DC is a trip every family should undertake at least once. A picture in front of the White House, a stop in front of the Capitol Building, and a walk down the streets our government walks on nearly every day is something to remember. The Smithsonian Museums (Air & Space being a favorite), the FBI, the Pentagon are all worth the ride. Within ten blocks, a family can visit Lincoln, the Wall, the WWII Memorial, the Washington Monument, and a whole slew of others. This particular weekend was even more special because of all the Girl Scouts.
In keeping with the current trend, the bad must come with the good. Some will complain about the heat, the lack of water, the lack of talent. Someday people will take responsibility for themselves. The homeless situation was a little overwhelming but I feel it was a strong lesson for my kids, an important hypocrisy for them to see. Some "troop leaders" allowed their scouts to cool themselves in the fountains of the memorials, to my entire family's disbelief (Ignorance is still alive and well). The scales, however, were overwhelmingly tipped toward the side of good. The crowd was pleasant. Everyone we passed along the way was smiling and ready with a happy hello. Again, swaps were the currency and led to many a great conversation under one monument or another. My kids beamed with pride as they told the story of their swap's creation. They buzzed with excitement to hear from where each group we encountered traveled from, so many places, faces, people.
The Girl Scouts must have a secret Beer Badge because the dining room of the Capitol City Brewing Company was overflowing with them as we washed the heat of the day away with some frosty mugs of local brew. The food wasn't bad either and I would recommend both to anyone visiting DC. Our trip was a complete success. The kids saw the vastness of the Girl Scouts and the kindness of many that participate. They learned of some of the opportunities available to them and that the world is a great big playground. We visited all these interesting places gathered within walking distance of each other, each filled with stories and questions and answers. And the seed of wanderlust has been planted and will, hopefully, forever flourish within them.
In keeping with the current trend, the bad must come with the good. Some will complain about the heat, the lack of water, the lack of talent. Someday people will take responsibility for themselves. The homeless situation was a little overwhelming but I feel it was a strong lesson for my kids, an important hypocrisy for them to see. Some "troop leaders" allowed their scouts to cool themselves in the fountains of the memorials, to my entire family's disbelief (Ignorance is still alive and well). The scales, however, were overwhelmingly tipped toward the side of good. The crowd was pleasant. Everyone we passed along the way was smiling and ready with a happy hello. Again, swaps were the currency and led to many a great conversation under one monument or another. My kids beamed with pride as they told the story of their swap's creation. They buzzed with excitement to hear from where each group we encountered traveled from, so many places, faces, people.
The Girl Scouts must have a secret Beer Badge because the dining room of the Capitol City Brewing Company was overflowing with them as we washed the heat of the day away with some frosty mugs of local brew. The food wasn't bad either and I would recommend both to anyone visiting DC. Our trip was a complete success. The kids saw the vastness of the Girl Scouts and the kindness of many that participate. They learned of some of the opportunities available to them and that the world is a great big playground. We visited all these interesting places gathered within walking distance of each other, each filled with stories and questions and answers. And the seed of wanderlust has been planted and will, hopefully, forever flourish within them.
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