My son and I communicate pretty well if only sporadically. I'm a spore and he's a radical. Our conversations don't always follow a conventional template, and that might be a good thing. We have a lot of history, some difficult but most of it very positive. The lines are open. This post attempts to make up some recent lost time.
Last month Jessi finished his construction skills course at Apex Academy, a trade school in New York City. The final phase, Electrical II, was his favorite part of the program, and the teacher, Mr. Neese, was the best of the lot. Mr. Neese also taught one of the plumbing courses, which Jessi also liked. He did well in the theory classes and in the shop. He has always been a good student and a good test taker, and he thrived on the combination of theory and practice with tools and materials.
They learned pipe bending and wired circuits and electrical panels using different kinds of cable, such as Romex (two- and three-wire cable in plastic sheathing) and armored (also called metal-clad, or BX because it was invented in the Bronx). They installed switches, outlets, and lights according to code.
In the week or two between the end of school and the start of cranberry season, his band, Hey Baby, was extremely busy. They began sharing a new practice space in Brooklyn with two other bands, and that required assembling amps, speakers, a PA, and drums. The space is more readily available than their previous space, and it looks like a good arrangement. They played shows at DIA Beacon in Beacon, NY, at Don Pedro's, and at Tommy's Tavern in Greenpoint, Brooklyn.
The first week of October, Jessi and friends went up to Buzzard's Bay, Massachusetts, to start work on the cranberry harvest at Mann's Farm. Once again this year, the seasonal workers have a house to live in right on the farm, and the living situation seems to agree with him. They put in long days picking, cleaning, sorting, packaging, and shipping berries to customers. Some of it is in the bog, and some of it is in the shed. I gather that they work hard and play hard too.
Gven and I have big plans for the prodigal son when he comes home for Thanksgiving - bearing a box of berries, we hope. We have a couple of house-renovation projects - including wiring, flooring, and a bathroom - that are currently on-hold awaiting someone with his skills and creative problem-solving ability. This is not a test, but we are eager to see what he can do.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Retreat
A few examples of an imperative sentence:
Go into the forest for a couple of days, even if it costs a little money, and sleep in a sleeping bag on an unfamiliar bunk in a dormitory full of relative strangers. Live by an altered, imposed, and accepted set of boundaries. Wake up at 5:00 to the sound of a bell, followed by chanting, drumming, and another bell. Be silent until breakfast at 7:30. Sit as much as you want. Take a break, then sit some more.
When you're not sitting, go outside in the crisp October air and walk down the trail to visit the bald eagle, the red-tailed hawk, kestrels, barn owls, barred owls, and turkey vultures that are sheltered at the Raptor Center. Do a taiji form on the brick fire circle just outside the kitchen with your morning coffee, then do another one after dark while the stars come out.
Go for a serious hike down into the glen, across the bridge, past Helen's Rock and Pompey's Pillar, and take a drink from the yellow spring that gives the town its name. Walk along the top of the ridge, down some steep steps, and closer to the creek. Mind your own business, just like the other hikers - young, old, and in between - mind theirs. Get a little bit lost, and find out by accident that the trail loops back to where you came from. Take off a layer or two and cool off.
Help with lunch, then help clean up. Collect enough kindling to get a fire started after dinner, and sit around talking with four or five other people while the fire burns down to coals.
When it's time to go, pack up your stuff, help clear the rooms of furniture, and mop the floor. Take a detour into town, and since it's such a nice day, take a bike ride up the paved trail, stopping to fix a flat tire on the way back, thankful that you brought a spare tube and a hand-pump. Recover from that little adventure with a sandwich and coffee at a little place on Xenia Ave.
Drive home and do a couple of chores because the back yard looks so welcoming.
Go into the forest for a couple of days, even if it costs a little money, and sleep in a sleeping bag on an unfamiliar bunk in a dormitory full of relative strangers. Live by an altered, imposed, and accepted set of boundaries. Wake up at 5:00 to the sound of a bell, followed by chanting, drumming, and another bell. Be silent until breakfast at 7:30. Sit as much as you want. Take a break, then sit some more.
When you're not sitting, go outside in the crisp October air and walk down the trail to visit the bald eagle, the red-tailed hawk, kestrels, barn owls, barred owls, and turkey vultures that are sheltered at the Raptor Center. Do a taiji form on the brick fire circle just outside the kitchen with your morning coffee, then do another one after dark while the stars come out.
Go for a serious hike down into the glen, across the bridge, past Helen's Rock and Pompey's Pillar, and take a drink from the yellow spring that gives the town its name. Walk along the top of the ridge, down some steep steps, and closer to the creek. Mind your own business, just like the other hikers - young, old, and in between - mind theirs. Get a little bit lost, and find out by accident that the trail loops back to where you came from. Take off a layer or two and cool off.
Help with lunch, then help clean up. Collect enough kindling to get a fire started after dinner, and sit around talking with four or five other people while the fire burns down to coals.
When it's time to go, pack up your stuff, help clear the rooms of furniture, and mop the floor. Take a detour into town, and since it's such a nice day, take a bike ride up the paved trail, stopping to fix a flat tire on the way back, thankful that you brought a spare tube and a hand-pump. Recover from that little adventure with a sandwich and coffee at a little place on Xenia Ave.
Drive home and do a couple of chores because the back yard looks so welcoming.
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