Wedding/Game

It was 4:00 in the morning yesterday when my mind once again woke me up with stressful thoughts. For a few days I had been debating on what to do: go to my old friend's wedding in Indiana, or go to the first game of my son's Fall baseball season (the one where my husband is finally head-coach).  What to do, what to do?  I'm so distraught over what to do. Either way someone will be disappointed.  I don't want to upset my friend and not go to her wedding.  I had already told her I would be there, but the game schedule had not come out yet.  I had been telling myself that Tony will have lots of games, I could miss one...but this was the opening game of the season and my husband's debut as head coach.

 

So, I got out of bed, did some thinking and decided to send my friend a message letting her know that I couldn't make it and, "I'm so sorry; I hope you have a wonderful day; etc., etc." I was racked with guilt.  Will she ever talk to me again? Did I make the right decision?  I just didn't know, but I couldn't do both, so, the game it is. 

As my household woke up, I informed Tony, who gave me an emphatic fist pump. My husband finally expressed to me that he couldn't believe I was having trouble with the decision in the first place, the obvious place for me was on the sidelines cheering on the little Angels (they are, actually, the Angels).  The morning ensued...  I emailed the team the treat schedule, went to Walmart to buy Gatorade and off we went to the diamonds.  

A few kids were up and got some hits and the game was off to a good start, even if the thermostat read 97 degrees.  Then Tony walks up to the plate.

WHAM - the ball goes flying out into the field and Tony is running like a freight train.  A TRIPLE!  He has NEVER hit a TRIPLE before.  The crowd is going crazy! Tony gets to third base and knuckle bumps the baseline coach with a smile on his face like I've never seen!  The next kid comes up and hits a single, and Tony runs in.  The rest of the team cheers him as he walks to the bench - they are all patting him on the back and telling him, "awesome hit; good job; way to go Tony!"  (I've never seen him so happy). 

The game goes on and Tony is now pitching.  He has perfect form, takes a deep breath and...STRIKE...STRIKE...STRIKE!  

"No way," I think to myself.  Then another! Three outs later and no hits!  His next two up-to-bats resulted in two RBIs!  Then, in the fourth inning, he's playing third base and CRACK! a line drive. Tony stopped it like a brick wall and beams the ball to first base.  What a play!

Angels win 8 to 2 and Tony receives a much deserved "game ball" from Coach Dad...   What a way to start off the season!

And to think, I actually considered missing this. 

Braided Birds

Like most moms, I never feel there is enough time in the day to get everything done. We work, cook, clean, take care of our kids, husbands, households, bills, etc., sometimes all at the same time. Unfortunately, busy schedules rarely take our own needs and desires into account. I found myself pondering these things one day while sitting in my car on my lunch hour.

I was on my way to the bank and simply pulled over into a parking spot and parked my car. I thought to myself, “This is a rare opportunity for me to just have a few minutes of quiet time.” I turned off the engine, put my seat back a little, closed my eyes and … my phone rang. Annoyed, I answered my husband’s call with an edge to my voice. He was asking whether I had made it to the bank; what needed to be picked up for dinner; and what plans were in place for the evening. We argued a bit. My poor husband simply called at the wrong moment.

After getting off the phone, I leaned back again (angrily noting that now I only had a few minutes of my lunch left and still had to make it to the bank) and gazed up at the sky. There were three birds flying above, weaving in and out of each other’s flight lines. I imagined that if each were holding a ribbon, they would have made a beautiful braid.

Watching these braided birds brought me back to the present. It was a beautiful moment. For a few short minutes, they represented the three most important aspects of my life: family/work/self. We all fly around weaving in and out of our daily routines, but need to find time for ourselves. That is the only way to have balance and peace.

The birds flew off in three separate directions as I started my car to get to the bank – with a slight smile on my face.

Today's picture lunch was one of the most interesting yet. My good friend Christine suggested we follow a geocache (www.geocaching.com for all you Muggles) titled "Fun With Concrete." We drove through this little neighborhood in Aurora, Illinois to find a run down, condemed, house that looked like it was going to collapse any minute. On, in and around this house was sculpture after sculpture of what appeared to be slaves. I have posted a few of the photos here, but to see them all, visit my Facebook page at http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1084839809&ref=profile, or my website at www.fantamphotography.com (under the fine art gallery).

After lunch I went back to the office to do a little research. Here is what I found:

The African-American Heritage Museum and Black Veteran's Archives
http://www.narrowlarry.com/nlaahm.html

artist: dr. charles smith (born: 1940)
built: 1986 - 2001
where: 126 south kendall street, aurora, illinois
status: sculptures no longer on property (dr. smith has moved to hammond, louisiana)

In 1986, in the yard of his small home on the east side of Aurora, Dr. Charles Smith began building his vision: a sculptural monument dedicated to the contributions and experiences of African-Americans. Before his vision, Dr. Smith, a Vietnam Veteran, had felt lost in pain and anger. Then he received his inspiration: "God told me, 'Use Art - I give you a weapon', just like He gave Dr. King the Gandhi strategy." From that moment on and despite the fact that he had never received training in art, his house lot started to fill with sculpted tributes to the leaders and martyrs of Black America: Harriet Tubman, Frederick Douglass, Emmett Till, and Martin Luther King among them. In addition, there are memorials to the 4,000 Black Americans who died in Vietnam, to victims of the Rwanda tragedy, as well as to whites that helped with the Underground Railroad.

As scholar Lisa Stone writes, "The African-American Heritage Museum and Black Veterans Archives is equal parts memorial and mirror, commemorating and reflecting the complexity of late 20th Century life, and its elaborate, and at times bewildering, commingled histories."

In 2002, Dr. Smith moved from Illinois in order to start two new museums in Hammond & New Orleans, Louisiana. (The New Orleans project, known as the Algiers Folk Art Zone, is a collaboration with artist Charles Gillam.) Forever passionate, forever formidable, forever free, Dr. Charles Smith continues to spread his message of remembrance, hope, and vision.

I opened my blog the other day for the first time in weeks and noticed that I had a follower. Expecting it to be a friend or relative, I clicked on the comment to see that it was Jodie LeJeune, author of the beautiful and inspiring blog Everything Vintage (http://jodielejeune.blogspot.com/). I had a follower that I didn't know! So, excitedly, I clicked on her comment, which congratulated me for being published in the new issue of Artful Blogging. Huh?!

I sent Jodie an email as she must be mistaken, but she replied, "Yes girl, you are published in the May issue which will be out on May 1st. Your article is listed in the "Buzz" on page 3... It was late in the evening and although my excitement was mounting to get my hands on the magazine, I had to wait until the next day. Morning came and I realized that the book store wouldn't be open until after I was at work, so I had to wait until my lunch hour. Noon finally came and off my friend and I went to see my name in print. Alas, the bookstore did not get their copies yet. We tried another nearby store and, again, not available. I must wait until after work.

On my way home, driving a bit too fast, I stopped at another bookstore, just to be disappointed yet again. Now I had to hurry home to prepare my son for his baseball game and would not have another opportunity to look for the magazine until evening. After the game (which our team won 12-5 yippee!), I decided to call another store and YES they had one copy and would hold it for me at the front counter.

I got to the bookstore and had my husband open it and read it to me. There, on page 3 was my first ever blog comment, left to Susannah, author of the beautiful blog Ink on my Fingers (http://inkonmyfingers.typepad.com). It reads:

"On having a very rough morning at the office yesterday, I decided to spend my lunch in a quiet corner of the nearby coffee shop. Before I bought my very large caramel, skim, latte, I browsed through the magazine rack. Somehow the bright blue cover of Artful Blogging, a magazine I never heard of before, caught my eye. I took it over to the couch in the corner with my giant cup of coffee and haven't stopped reading it since. I have now started a blog, and hopefully with a little nurturing, it will grow into the photographic/art journal I've always known is inside of me.
Tammy Fanara

www.heartssprings.blogspot.com."

I couldn't believe it. MY words, recognized by such inspiring writers! It gave me an inner joy that can only be explained one way... my hearts springs went "boing-oing" all for myself. What a feeling!

Thank you Jodie! Thank you Susannah! Thank you Artful Blogging! Thank you Universe!

Every night my six-year-old, Tony, wants to sleep in my bed, and every night we argue and struggle and do our best to get him to sleep in his own room. Tony has many excuses for not wanting to sleep alone, such as his bed is uncomfortable (so we bought him a new mattress); he has nightmares (so we read him happy bedtime stories); he just cannot fall asleep by himself (so he is a regular warm-milk drinker); and mostly, he gets "lonely."

Sometimes my husband and I give in (usually it is me), or sometimes we let him fall asleep in our bed and then carry him to his own room. We are trying to eliminate this scneario also, as he is getting very big and heavy. I could not have imagined Tony could come up with some new tactic to get me to allow him to sleep next to me again, until last night.

After brushing his teeth, he began the normal routine of begging to let him sleep in my bed, and my trying not to get frustrated as I tell him over and over that he has to sleep in his own room. He told me, "I'm closer to you when I sleep in your room." To which I replied, "Tony, I'm going downstairs to watch tv for a little while, so you'll be closer to me if you sleep in your own room since it is closer to the stairway." Tony mustered every ounce of puppy-dog-eyes and said to me, "My heart mom.... my heart will be closer to you if I fall asleep in your room."

I pulled back the covers, gave his smirky smile a big kiss and said goodnight.

...why can't they stay six forever?

On our last picture lunch we walked over this little bridge that looks so old and rusty, yet was just recently built. It made me wonder about all of the changes I've made in my life: about the many times I felt I was at a new beginning and the steps I had to take to get where I needed to be.

I am 40-years-old and I feel like this old rusty bridge, that is actually brand new. I've spent a lot of years getting where I am; but, I am only just beginning. Where do I go from here? Everywhere, crossing bridges as I get to them.

An old, dear friend of mine is dealing with some very serious decisions in her life. She is a very expressive writer and I asked her to write something to express what she is going through. The result was this beautiful poem that, I believe, epitomizes the emotional roller-coaster that comes with new beginnings in a person's life.

Here, right here, middle of the road.
How is this life going to unfold?
Do I turn left? Turn right? Or return?
Anyway I go I might be burned.
>
Maybe, I should stay right here.
Nice and cozy, no change to fear.
Watching the birds playing in the sun.
Feeling the rain dance is so much fun.
>
Though something seems to be missing.
Should something be different, I am guessing?
I know this place oh so well.
What is wrong I cannot tell.
>
Am I changing in this place?
Is it me that has a different face?
That could be right after all.
Life is to precious to let it fall.
>
I must go down this winding road.
Change is inevitable, I am told.
It could be good or it could be a tragedy.
I guess that happiness doesn't appear magically.
>
I must take control of where my life goes.
Good or bad, it is mine to bestow.
Change, yes change, has to occur.
My heart, my soul, my life must stir.
>
Hold on, there will be a lot of bumps.
I am sure I will feel my heart thumb.
Come on life, come on change!
If I don't go forward, I will be shortchanged.

...crossing life's bridges

There is art all around us. Most of the time no one notices the details that are put into the creation of everyday-things. Sometimes I look around and I'm amazed at the way a table leg is perfectly curved, or how the stitching on my favorite pair of jeans is perfectly symmetrical. The bowls in your kitchen may be mass produced in some factory on the other side of the world, but at some point they were designed by someone. The weave of a blanket, the color of the paint on your walls, the label on your favorite bottle of wine. These things are all someone's art.

For our second-weekly photo lunch, Tanya and I headed to the mall. It was too cold for us to find an outdoor spot, and in the middle of the food-court there is a pretty little carousel. So I grabbed a Subway sammie and we pulled out our cameras. At first I started trying to get full shots of the colorful horses and other animals; then, as usual, I started noticing the designs and detail that went into the creation of this beautiful work of art.



Look around the room you are in right now. Besides the paintings or photographs on your wall, see the art. Let the beauty of every little thing sink in for a minute, and appreciate the art all around us.