Family Ski and Snowboard Time

This week we drove up to Gore Mountain in the Adirondacks to squeeze in a little family skiing and snowboarding. We had a great time. It rained on our way up to Lake George but as we got closer the rain turned to snow. Yay!! The next morning we had four to five new inches of the white stuff. Good news! Unfortunately, half of New York State also decided to go skiing at Gore so the lift lines were long and the slopes crowded. We managed to have a lot of fun anyhow. Overnight it rained and then froze, just as it always does in New England, so the next day we had "fast conditions".

My son, Sean, who normally skis, decided to rent a snowboard for a day. Halfway through the day, his cousin, Teri (an accomplished skier), asked if she could try it. My other son, Derek, caught her first attempts on video and this is the funny result. My husband is in the yellow coat trying to help, even though he knows little about snowboarding.

I'm so grateful nobody captured my first attempts at skiing on video. That would have been high comedy. At one point, I think I fell between the ski instructor's legs.

Class Picture

Every year the kids have their class picture taken. Like every other kid, I have my own collection of old class photos. I found this one recently among my mother's boxes and boxes of pictures, old report cards and checking statements. It's a picture of my first grade class. The teacher's name was Miss Clink. My dad said she was a kid -- only 21 years old at the time and fresh out of the state college. The next year she was gone -- to marry her sweetheart, settle down in a split level house someplace and start her own little family.

Class pictures aren't something you appreciate until many years have gone by. You look back at them and wonder, whatever became of Stanley Lincoln who cried every morning? In the above picture, he's sitting to my left. Does Robin Rubel., in the second row, still have that idiotic grin? In ninth grade when we had to bring in a current event from the newspaper every morning, he brought in the obituaries each day without fail. I wonder if he grew up to become a mortician. And what happened to my good friend, Rhona?  She moved at the end of first grade. We hadn't yet acquired the necessary letter writing skills to keep in touch. She's sitting in the first row three seats to my left. Was Terry a little retarded? He never got out of the Blue Birds reading group. Maybe he just had a learning disability. Why did they put me next to two boys for this picture? Was I too chatty? And what about George sitting at the end of the front row there in his bow tie? He liked to catch garter snakes from the woods behind the school and chase the girls around the playground with them. I bet he had a good time in college.


It's fun to look back at these old pictures and remember the people you played with, envied, fought with, competed with on the playground for a turn on the swings or a chance to use that waxed paper you'd saved from your ham sandwich so you could zip down the slide at 100 m.p.h. (so it seemed anyhow). I don't know what became of any of the people in this picture. Except me, of course. Do you know which one is me? My sons figured it out after a while -- mostly because my son, Sean, has my smile. I'm sitting in the front row, third from the left. Missing a few teeth, too.

New York Friendly

New Yorkers, especially city people, have a reputation for being cold and unfriendly. Every man for himself. A dog-eat-dog world. On a recent trip into the city, I was reminded that this is simply not true.

On taking the subway from Penn Station to the Met, we managed to get on the wrong train and wound up in Brooklyn -- a far cry from where we planned to be. Oops. A few people overheard us discussing our plight and offered directions. One kind woman instructed us to follow her. She was going to work on Park Avenue. So, we did. We had to hustle to keep up with her as she hopped off the train, bounded up the escalator two steps at a time, and practically ran through the turnstiles to catch the uptown subway. And she was by no means young.

Later, we went to Greenwich Village to have dinner and once again, somebody overheard us discussing which subway we had to take and stopped to offer us directions. He said he'd walk us over there if we'd like. Both times we were astounded by how friendly and willing to go out of their way for others New Yorkers truly are.

Get New Yorkers into their cars, though, and it's a different story. On the roads and bridges, they don't give you an inch and it's back to being the dog-eat-dog people they're reputed to be.

Manic Monday

I'm home from work today with a cold and a sore foot with a blister that's infected. I can barely put a shoe on. Ouch! How did all this happen at once? Just when I'm busiest, I get sick.

So, I'm soaking my foot while I'm waiting to go see the podiatrist and meanwhile, blowing my nose. I'm miserable. Tomorrow I'm suppose to have my Books and Bagels Breakfast for the staff. I even bought something for a raffle (a Godiva chocolate basket). Usually I set up all the new books the night before but now, provided I can walk, I'm going to have to go in real early tomorrow -- like 6:30 am -- to set up. I don't want to postpone it any longer.

Why am I doing this? None of the other librarians host a new books breakfast. It costs me something and includes a fruit salad and a few other goodies besides bagels. I guess I just like to let the staff see the new books and have a chance to check them out before the kids get to them. Besides, before I left my old building, one of the teachers told me that the new books and bagels breakfast was her favorite school event and that she looked forward to it every year. I know there's other bookaholics out there.

Anyhow, it's always good to pay it forward.