Category: Lydia

The Girl in the Middle

Oh, no, remember, remember
The fifth of November.
Remember by John Lennon

I have alluded to the trip that I took with Lydia to Charlotte, NC back in June, and how peevish some things made me. The thing that made me the most angry I never wrote about, in large measure because I was SO ticked that I thought I would write some characterization of the event that was full of bile and venom.

So now I’ve counted to 100 (1000? 10,000?).

On my mother’s wall are three pictures of her three granddaughters. Although she’s by far the youngest, Lydia’s picture is in the middle. It’s a photo from a couple years ago, and I wasn’t positive that she recognized her own image. So on that Saturday afternoon, I said to Lydia, “Who’s that girl in the middle? Who’s that pretty girl in the middle?” This was a conversation I was having with my daughter, and I wasn’t even particularly aware that anyone else was around, not that it would have mattered.

OK. So on Monday morning, while we’re having a conversation ostensibly about my mother, one of my sisters says to me: “Do you know what’s bothering me? When you were talking to Lydia about the pictures.”

Though it was only two days earlier, I had no idea what she was talking about.

“You know, when you were saying that SHE was the pretty one, as though her cousins were not.”

I said, “You’re KIDDING!”

“Well, you can see how I could see how we could think that.” Now to be fair, I don’t know if the other sister was party to this.

Well, no, I don’t see how you can see that. Not if I had NEVER said anything uncomplimentary about my beautiful nieces’ looks. EVER. Not only did I find it absurd, I felt it was insulting to my integrity.

“I wasn’t even talking to you. I was talking to my DAUGHTER to see if she could RECOGNIZE herself.” My voice got louder, and probably, a bit shrill.

I was so angry that for the next several days back in Albany, anyone I talked to, whether I knew them or not, I told the story to. One was a woman from the Red Cross, who told me that the sister’s reaction was the “silliest thing” that she’s every heard. Another said it was like a game of peekaboo you’d play with a child.

And I can finally tell the story now because it no longer burns a hole in the pit of my stomach. And writing about it reduces the power it had held over me.

I have my theories about what the conversation was REALLY about, but I’ll withhold that for the foreseeable future, except to say that I’m guessing that it REALLY wasn’t about what I said at all, but rather some of her internal stuff, something I can see now but couldn’t in the moment.


ROG

ROG

October Ramblin’

One foot in front of the other.

SATURDAY: I took the daughter to the Medieval Faire. She enjoyed the silly magician and the juggler who had an ax, a flaming stick and a rubber chicken in the air at once. She also enjoyed the Punch and Judy show, as much because the puppeteer had me control one of his marionettes for a short time; demented show with the devil showing up and Rensselaer (city across the river from Albany) a linguistic substitute for hell.
I always enjoy the crowning of the boy bishop; it’s all very High Church. Wait, it’s now the “child bishop”, which means the bishop is, for the first tiome in my recollection, a girl! Brava!

Then a brief trip to a pumpkin carving party. Lydia had lots of kids to play with and didn’t want to leave.

Finally, we got a babysitter and went to a friend’s 40th birthday party, which was pleasant enough.

SUNDAY: Choir rehearsal, then church service, then meeting for the Black History Month planning.

Mother of one of the kids at the pumpkin carving party called to note that her son was feeling lethargic; ah, Lydia, too.

Still we all went to the State Museum, mostly because Lydia wanted to go on the carousel. A church group of about 10 saw Through the Eyes of Others: African Americans and Identity in American Art; 1609; This Great Nation Will Endure: Photographs of the Great Depression; and Berenice Abbott’s Changing New York: A Triumph of Public Art. And yes, we all rode the carousel, even only one of us was under 40, and at least one of us was twice 40.

Then ANOTHER choir rehearsal.

MONDAY, TUESDAY: Home with a sick child. Her temperature was up Monday morning, then down Tuesday morning, when I thought she was rallying. But feverish Tuesday afternoon. When she was well was actually more work, keeping her occupied with Sorry, Uno, pick-up-sticks, Candyland… Difficult blogging conditions.

WEDNESDAY: Work, which comparatively speaking, was a vacation; the wife stayed home with the child. Although I got little done the first hour because my computer, and only MY computer, somehow decided to leave the LAN, and I had to wait for a techie to fix it.

There was this cellphone conversation in an elevator. The person standing near me: “Yeah, he was a good father. He never got drunk in the garage every weekend.” I didn’t know this person, but I felt embarrassed on her behalf.

Also, these guys were coming through our offices, only one of whom works there. So I say to the one I know, “Nobody else is here. Just you and me.” And one of the other guys walking by says in this condescending tone, “That’s ‘you and I‘.” “Shut UP! Wasn’t even talking to you; I don’t even KNOW you. Shut UP!” I thought that, but didn’t say it.
And in any case, almost no one would say, “Just we” in casual conversation; one would say say, “just us”, the objective version, at least colloquially. Even my English teacher-wife couldn’t discern for sure.
***
Old records from 1895-1925 on the original victrolas

Care for Caregivers: Getting the help you need could save your life.

Stop Drowning in Mail: 4-Step System to Manage Mail Overload
***
Picture above came in the e-mail yesterday with his note: “Eddie Haskell, The Beaver and Wally! HOLY Mackerel!! Are we REALLY that Old???” Yes, an excess of punctuation there.

ROG

ROG

The Lydster, Part 67: Kindergarten


I didn’t know how Lydia would take to kindergarten. She’d been going to day care for four years, after all. And the first week’s report was not encouraging: “all we do is color!” Ah, but there was a method to her teacher’s madness. It was “color two of three trees”, understanding the concept of numbers.

So it is astonishing how much she’s learned in the past couple months. When she asked how many days between her birthday and mine, and I said 19, she replied, “Then it’s 20 days between your birthday and Grandma’s,” whose birthday is the day after Lydia’s. Yes, that would be correct.

Notable: she has learned how to tie her shoes. On September 24, she couldn’t. On September 25, she was waiting for her mother, saw this book “Learn to Tie Your Shoes!” from CB Publishing complete with instructions and, more importantly, actual shoelaces; by the end of the day, she could do it. This is pleasing to me for a couple reasons:
1) this means she could tie them long before I could tie mine
2) when I get old and decrepit (or older and decrepiter), she’ll be able to tie mime

She has to do homework for 20 minutes every day, usually with me. Part of it involves taking a picture book such as “K is for Kissing a Cool Kangaroo” and identifying all the words on the page that begin with each letter of the alphabet; I keep finding new ones myself.

Lydia has mellowed out about the process of learning. Early on at school, she was told to use the phonetic sounds to try to figure out the spelling of a word. When she got one wrong, she literally broke into tears in class. Now she knows that English is difficult, what with those Cs that sound like Ks, Cs that sound like Ss, Gs that sound like Js, and Ys that sound like Is, not to mention silent letters in words such as gnu and knife.

She has always liked to dance, but has actively resisted actually take classes. But she has now taken two sessions in a ballet class and really seems to enjoy it. For our part, we never pushed her in this direction; it had to be something SHE really wanted to do.

Lydia gets more interesting practically every day.

ROG

ROG

L is for Lydia

Lydia was an Iron Age kingdom of western Asia Minor, now part of modern Turkey. Its population spoke an Anatolian language in the Indo-European language family known as Lydian, which became extinct in the first century BC. Coins were invented in Lydia around 610 BC.

Lydia was also a rich businesswoman of Thyatira in modern Greece, who appears in the Biblical book of Acts. She housed the apostle Paul and his colleagues. Ah, that money linkage.

The church that I went to as a child in Binghamton, NY, Trinity AME Zion, was two very short blocks away, down Gaines Street over Oak Street, to the corner of Oak and Lydia. On weekdays, I would walk down Lydia, zigzag five more short blocks to my school, Daniel S. Dickinson.

Yet none of that, save for the vague recollection about the New Testament woman, was consciously in my mind when we decided to name our daughter Lydia five and a half years ago.

Here are pics from her first two and a quarter years; the last picture was developed 6 July 2006. Some of the earlier pics I never used in the blog before.

And a more recent shot, from her fourth birthday party:


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ROG

The Lydster, Part 66: Dead Rock Stars

(I didn’t have a blog in Lydia’s first year; so here are photos from the summer of 2004. Today Lydia is five and a HALF, so here she is a little more than five years ago.)


I try really hard not to indoctrinate my daughter with my music. I want her to find her own way, and then pick and chose which of mine she’s comfortable with.

But when Michael Jackson died, he was on TV ALL OF THE TIME. She inevitably heard some of his songs. ABC by the Jackson Five is immediately infectious for a child. We went on a car trip during July and I played the first disc from the J5 box set in the car. It’s quite danceable, and now she knows who Michael Jackson is – well, usually; sometimes his morphed appearance confused her. She loves to dance in the house and the solo hits such as Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough, Rock With You and Beat It will make her want to move her feet.

A fact that will shock you: I’m a big Beatles fan. I was watching lots of Beatles-related items such as some old videos around 09/09/09. Lydia wanted to know all about them. I said, “That’s a group that was very popular when Daddy was growing up.” Her next question: “Are they still alive?” Well, the drummer is still alive; his name is Ringo. And the guy…THERE…his name is Paul.” Since both John (d. 1980) and George (d. 2001) passed away before she was born (2004), it’s all ancient history to her. She asked over and over about their state of mortality – “Is that one dead?”

Subsequently, EVERY group she heard me play was the Beatles. Sometimes, it WAS the Beatles, but more often it was not. I was slow on the uptake as to why she was so honed in on the Fab Four. It was because of the animated program The Wonder Pets.

From the Amazon description: “The Wonder Pets! get groovy in the newest release, ‘Save the Beetles!’ Yes, the Wonder Pets are called up on the ol’ telly with a request for help from four members of a famous rock band, the Beetles, whose yellow submarine has gotten tangled up in kelp. As they journey to rescue them, they’ll dive straight into Beatlemania pop-culture (and reference numerous Beatles song titles and lyrics along the way!)” She saw this episode at least twice on TV – and I watched it myself at least once. THIS was the real jumping off point.

Mary Travers just died, and on ABC World News, what does the daughter here but “Puff, the Magic Dragon”? I’m singing along, and Lydia asks, “How do YOU know that song? I learned it in day care.” Well, dear, long before you heard it at school, I heard it on the radio.

ROG

ROG
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