My First Day

I had my first day of Kindergarten yesterday. Mom bought me brand new clothes to wear so I couldn't wait to have all the other kids see my new outfit. My pants are a lot like what I already have (brown corduroy) but I got a brand new pair of Buster Brown shoes to go with them and a cool new shirt too. The shirt is what I like the best. It has a picture of all the characters from Sesame Street on the front - Big Bird, Oscar the Grouch, Bert & Ernie - all of them! All the other kids couldn't stop looking at at.

Mom walked with me from our house to the corner. I walked the rest of the way (three whole blocks!) by myself. I had learned all the lessons on how not to talk to strangers and looking both ways at Safety Town earlier in the summer, so I was fine on my own. And we had walked the way together a couple of times so I knew exactly which door to go to and wait. My sister was walking ahead with her friend Cindy so it's not like I was really alone. (She is in Second Grade so she didn't want to walk right next to me anyway).

When I got there I remembered where I was supposed to stand in line and wait for the bell to ring. There were about twenty other kids in line (I think I was able to count that high) and everyone was very quiet. When the bell finally rang all the older kids went inside knowing exactly what to do. We stood there for a few seconds looking at each other for a possible answer and our teacher appeared to lead us to our classroom. Our teacher, Mrs. Wallo, lives across the street from me so I already know her. My sister had her for Kindergarten too so I wasn't nervous at all once I saw her face.

I had heard about the class from from sister but once I got in there it was beyond what I had imagined. It was very long with several different areas in it. On the end which we entered from there is a small closet area with hooks to hang our coats when the weather gets colder, on the other side of the closet is a piano, then a playhouse(!), and on the far side of the room is the blackboard and all the "learning" stuff.

Mrs. Wallo had us all sit down by the piano and the first thing we learned was our "Good Morning" song. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to remember it, but it is to the same music as "Happy Birthday" so it is pretty easy. She told us we will start each day with this song followed by our "weather report." For this, she will choose one of us to come up to the big paper calendar she has next to the piano. We are then to take the big crayons and draw in the space for the day what kind of weather we have. (I much prefer my Crayolas at home. They are much easier to hold and I have many more colors to use.) I don't yet know the boy's name who got picked but he drew a big yellow sun because it was very hot and bright outside.

So far it seemed like school was going to be great fun, but then she moved us over to the "learning" side of the room. Here she explained that we would soon begin to start doing all the things that the big kids do in their classes: read, write, do math. I don't know if upset some of the other kids or if it was because we had been sitting there for so long but a couple of them were suddenly sitting in puddles of their own pee! Luckily my mom had made me go before I left home. Mrs. Wallo thought this was a good time for a break so she took us all into the hall to show us where the bathrooms are. The girls went into their bathroom and we went into ours. The boys room is really neat because it has lockers for when the older kids play sports. Some of the other boys needed help going using the toilet but I didn't.

When we got back to the classroom we were told it was rest time for ten minutes and after that we would be able to have play time until it was time to go home. For play time she said she was going to divide us up into groups as to whether we would play with toys from the shelves or use the playhouse. (Of course everyone was hoping to play in the playhouse!) We spaced ourselves out on the floor to lie down for our rest. The kids who wet themselves had to lie on paper towels so nobody wanted to be near them.

The ten minutes lasted forever. When Mrs. Wallo turned the lights back up she called out our names and told us where we were to play. When she called my name she said I can go to the playhouse! It was so neat. It has a kitchen with an oven and a sink. There is a big trunk with clothes and hats and wigs. The doors and windows even open and close. Me and the other kids who got to play in it were very excited and you could see the others were jealous, but they will get their chance tomorrow or the next day. I think she chose me on the first day because she knows my mom and sister.

After a while Mrs. Wallo told us to put our things away because it was soon time to go home. All the big kids would be going to the lunch room across the hall but we are younger so we get to go home. Next year I can buy a lunch box and eat with all the other kids. We got into a line by the door once more and when the bell rang my mom was waiting outside with the rest of the kids' parents. Some of them ran to their moms and dads crying but I was fine. I had been to pre-school so I was used to being away from my parents for already.

I couldn't wait to tell mom all that we did today and that some of the kids had peed on the floor! I wonder if they did this in my sister's class too? This school thing is going to be interesting...

Fellowship & Flatulence

My grandfather's birthday (we have always called him Bumpa) is the day before
mine. He just turned 87 years old. He is the youngest of five children, four of which are still alive. Aunt Faye is now 99 years old.

Thank God my mother held her legs together for that extra two and a half hours to make into the early hours of August 1st to deliver me. If she had not I would have had the misfortune of being named Francis after Bumpa. He's kinda happy for that too.

Since our birthdays are only one day apart they were always celebrated in tandem when I was a small child. Sometimes the party would be at my parents' house, other times at my grandparents' when they still lived in Illinois. In order to keep it fair we both had our separate cakes.

I had to be only four or five when one of our family friends goaded me to call Bumpa "Fart Face". I didn't know why I was supposed to do this, but seeing as I thought it was funny and I was so young I did so. Of course this little innocent remark from me brought down the house. I don't remember it at all myself but I have never been able to forget it through the retelling of it by everyone else. To this day many family members and friends will refer to Bumpa as Fart Face.

* * * * * * * * *

I went over to the west coast of Florida this weekend to visit Bumpa & Maggie. It was in the spring when I visited them last and they hardly ever seem to change much from one visit to the next. The hair may get a little whiter or they move a half a step slower, but everything else seems to stay status quo. I have some strong genes flowing in my blood! The most surprising (and encouraging) thing is that Bumpa is still as sharp as a tack. When observing him it is quite apparent where I inherit my sarcasm and mental acuity. Maggie can attest to the fact that he can recall the most minute details of past events - a trait that can drive her crazy when trying to tell a story from years past. Bumpa will correct her on names, dates, what they were eating...the most trivial detail of a story, if it does not fit his recollection of the event. This same thing also drives my partner Scott insane.

In the course of the visit Maggie started talking about the trips her and Bumpa used to take out West when they were first married thirty years ago. They would get a car and drive around the western states for a few weeks exploring the different cities and states, sometimes stopping at any one place for a several days at a time. Maggie began to tell a story of how one time during a trip through one of the Sierra ranges they became trapped in a snowstorm when Bumpa yelled out "Fart Face! That's where Fart Face came from!"

We looked at each other with almost disbelief. Fart Face had of course become a part of the family vernacular in the past thirty years and we all remembered that I had called Bumpa it, but no one could remember exactly how it had come into being. The Lost Ark had been uncovered thanks to Bumpa's elephant-like memory...

It was the beginning of summer and they were on the tail end of their trip in the Sierras when they ran into a surprisingly heavy snowfall for that time of the year. There was a small town in the mountains so they decided to stop at a hotel and stay the night. The next morning was a Sunday, so when they awoke they asked a man at the hotel if there was a church in town. He pointed up a nearby hill and said that there was a church within walking distance. As dutiful Catholics they cleaned up and went to Sunday mass.

It was a very small church, so when it came time for communion they had to sit in the pew until they could get into line in the aisle. The man in their row nearest the aisle was already standing ready to get into line (with Bumpa sitting directly behind him) when he let out out a very inconspicuous rip of gas into Bumpa's face. Maggie both saw and heard what had just occurred and immediately began laughing so hard she was almost sobbing. Instead of getting in line for communion they had to leave the church immediately and return to the hotel in order to not make a further spectacle.

Nevertheless, later that day Bumpa saw another guest of the hotel who happened to be in church that morning. She politely said hello and questioned if Maggie was feeling better as she had seen her leave the service sobbing that morning....

And so the legend of Fart Face shall live on....

A Kid at Soul

Here I am thirty-eight years old, unemployed, and not sure which direction to go. This isn't the first time this has happened but this time it is different.

It's not that it is because I am nearing the big 4-0 and I in the starting throes of a mid-life crisis; I haven't the slightest desire to go out and buy a sports car or hire a cute Latin houseboy (although that's never really a bad idea). At this point I am torn between what is expected of me as an adult and that pull of youth that I still feel inside myself.

We all have met those people in our lives who seem to have been born old. To picture them as a child playing in the snow or as a teenager sneaking beer is almost impossible. Everything about them conforms to what our society labels as the perfect adult: responsible, mature, professional...BORING! These are people we deal with on a daily basis: our co-workers, our doctors, even our friends and relatives. Were they born this way or at some point did they reach some invisible crossroads in their lives that put them on this path? I certainly missed the road sign if there was one. Therein lies the issue.

As I begin this new chapter in my life I question if I am where I should be in terms of my "adultness". Am I too stubborn to move along with society? Am I just immature? I will continue to embrace that youthfulness that gives me my spark..without it I would not be me. But is it is possible to truly be an adult with being a kid in your soul, not just "at heart"? Lets see where my road signs lead me...