Wii Fit puckered up to me today...

...and my mouth is bleeding -- wahoo!

Stepped on the scale this morning and felt relieved: Up 3.7 pounds since the last time I weighed myself, just five days ago. Finally! My body is being honest with me.

I've been eating like a typical American at Christmastime: Too much! And, until today, getting away with it, at least on the scale. When I was up 2/2.5 pounds, I could say to myself, "Eh, what's a couple pounds? Could be water weight." Now I can't ignore the needle. The tally is +5.7 pounds, and I'm grateful for the reality check. (To me, there's nothing worse than a "false positive" report. It messes with my sense of integrity. Give me the truth -- the whole ugly, messy truth. Say it nicely, if you can, but please be plain with me. I'll always prefer a forthright assessment before a sugar-coated half-truth!)

"An honest answer is like a kiss on the lips." - Proverbs 24:26

So, I'm taking a deep breath, dusting off my mindset, my journal (once I find it -- it seems to have disappeared amid the Christmas clutter), and my Eat To Live book.

Lest you think me merely vain (because I am vain, although I aspire not to be), the deeper reason I care about my overeating is that it represents an unhealthy method of coping with stress that I believe to be destructive to my mind, body and spirit. I care about my mind, body and spirit because their well-being...my well-being...is important to the people I love, people who depend on me, people whose own lives would be diminished in love, joy and strength if I were not part of them. That's quite a statement, isn't it?

Lest you dismiss me as egotistical (because I am also egotistical, although I aspire not to be), this Christmas Eve, I think it proper to acknowledge the importance of my "Wonderful Life," my unique position on the planet, my personal contributions to the good of my family, my community, our society, the world, the universe! I suppose it's a lot to surmise from one session on the scale, but to me, it means that much: I must try my best to be healthy and whole -- body, mind and spirit -- not just so I look good or even so I live long, but so I am good and so I live well. So that the lives of the people I love are richer, fuller, better because mine is a healthy, robust, nurturing presence in them.

"Merry Christmas, movie house! Merry Christmas, Emporium! Merry Christmas, you wonderful old Building and Loan!" - George Bailey, It's A Wonderful Life

I take nothing for granted. Not even my good health. No more cookies for me this Christmas. Just a dose of reality and a return to the joy of Eating To Live...eating to live well, for my own sake, and also yours! I love you, dear readers. Merry Christmas!

Word Search Explanations

Goats – Lucy’s second favorite animal

Meh – Cordelia’s name for Reuben

new camera – Tom’s new toy

ministerial candidacy – Marsha’s new/old pursuit (“It’s about time,” said Doug Cullum, NES Dean and former RWC Chaplain)

soccer – Vivian’s favorite sport

quarrymen – Tom’s local heritage discovery of the year – he hopes to help bring about a local memorial park to honor the workers who settled our area and left a legacy of architectural treasures

Horseland – Lucy’s favorite TV show

Minecraft – Reuben’s video game of the year (it’s like digital Legos)

Dighee – Cordelia’s name for Vivian

vegetables – Marsha’s dietary discovery, which led to a 35-pound weight loss and much-improved health

horses – Lucy’s favorite animal

Accelerated Reader – reading program at Albion Elementary School…Reuben accumulated umpteen points this year (he could tell you exactly how many, being his father’s son)

Harry Potter – Reuben’s favorite books (and top point-getters in AR)

sandstone – the bedrock of our community, so says Tom

Baby – Cordelia’s name for Lucy

music – one of Vivian’s favorites

Downton Abbey – Marsha’s favorite TV show

cell phone – Vivian’s near-constant companion

Rivers Review 2012

Merry Christ-moose from Baby-bunny and Meh!

In place of our annual half page of highlights, we present you with this puzzle, featuring our year in 18 words. Merry Christmas and New Year's Blessings ~ Love, The Rivers 

P.S. Each member of our family picked three words for this puzzle. Can you guess which person picked which words?

Answer Key

Word Choice Explanations

Three months into my veggie-eating lifestyle…

I am 34 pounds lighter, just 7 pounds heavier than high school.

I love toasted walnuts. By themselves. Almost as much as I used to enjoy fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies. I’m supposed to limit myself to 1 oz of nuts a day. I was fine by this rule until I discovered toasted walnuts.

I am wardrobe challenged. When I dropped from size 18 to size 16, I found I had plenty of clothes in storage that fit me. When I dropped from 16 to 14, I had a few things, but I had to go shopping. I invested in a select number of regular retail items and hit the thrift stores for the other stuff. At the same time, people started giving me clothes because it was so obvious I needed them.

Now, I have dropped to a size 12. I never would have guessed this would happen. I assumed size 14 was the slimmest I would ever be as an almost-middle-aged, post-child-bearing woman. I was wrong.

I am struggling to stick to the Eat To Live plan. Chilly weather seems to heighten my desire for food—especially those cozy carbs. I guess maybe my mother is right: I should hang onto my size 14s.

The right words at the right time

Sometimes, when I need it most, God sends a Scripture to mind. Other times, it’s a scene from another great book, or even a movie. Today, it was this hymn. Exactly what I needed…

 

When upon life's billows you are tempest tossed,
When you are discouraged, thinking all is lost,
Count your many blessings name them one by one,
And it will surprise you what the Lord hath done.

Count your blessings, name them one by one;
Count your blessings, see what God hath done;
Count your blessings, name them one by one,
And it will surprise you what the Lord hath done.

Are you ever burdened with a load of care?
Does the cross seem heavy you are called to bear?
Count your many blessings, every doubt will fly,
And you will be singing as the days go by.

When you look at others with their lands and gold,
Think that Christ has promised you His wealth untold.
Count your many blessings, money cannot buy
Your reward in heaven, nor your Lord on high.

So amid the conflict, whether great or small,
Do not be discouraged, God is over all;
Count your many blessings, angels will attend,
Help and comfort give you to your journey's end.

Source: http://www.hymnal.net/hymn.php/h/707#ixzz2AAUy0Dv8

Running toward redemption

Following up from my last post:



My first pair of kicks looked like this -- they're Saucony Jazz.

I revisited the scene, UB, including a warm-up run around the upper, interior perimeter of Alumni Arena. The lighting took me back those 20 years, where I had laced up my first pair of running shoes, trying to reverse that 30-pound weight gain I told you about! (Does anyone else have a strong “lighting memory”? It’s almost as strong as olfactory recall for me … you know, when particular aromas take you back to times of your youth.)

I really appreciated the cheering sections along the course. Patches of students and volunteers waved handmade signs (e.g., “Run, Run, Run” and “You Got This”), clapped, called out, chanted and even sang to strangers like me who huffed and puffed our way to the finish line. (Note for next year’s Strawberry Race: Recruit cheer-ers and strategically station them at half-mile intervals. Maybe dub them the BE’S — Barnabas Encouragement Squad, in honor of the renowned biblical encourager.)

Barnabas: "Son of Encouragement"

I took a bit of advice I had gleaned from Runner’s World recently and I smiled, thanked and even high-fived many of the volunteers throughout the race. It made the experience more enjoyable, and I think it might have helped me finish faster.

I didn’t finish as fast as I’d hoped to. The first mile took almost 11 minutes. I think it was because of all the people around me, sort of boxing me in. Plus, I’m not a very experienced racer — not currently, anyway. Nevertheless, I made up some time in the second and third miles (passed quite a few other runners in the third) and finished around 30:20-something (will find out chip time later today on the “Score This” website). In future large events, I think I’ll start closer to the front of the pack so I don’t get stuck behind slower-paced runners in the beginning. I also think it’s advantageous to study the course ahead of time — something I didn’t do — so you know when to go all-out in the end. In this race, I wasn’t sure where the finish was, and I held back longer than I could have, otherwise.

I finished 18^th out of 63 women ages 35-39. My dad, who also ran this race, finished second in his age group — woohoo!

I have no pictures from the event, but I was happy to take a picture for a pair of friends who asked me to, just after the race.

Parking lot reunion: No accident

Also after the race: I saw one of my few friends from that awful year at UB. Incredible, isn’t it? Out of 1,320 runners, Dad and I “happened” to be walking out to the truck to leave when I spotted Joe, just a few yards ahead of us — and recognized him, after 20 years. I remember Joe as somebody who noticed; someone who said something; one of the presciently pushy souls who insinuated that maybe all wasn’t right with my world; and who suggested that I didn’t have to live under the thumb of someone else’s will. Joe showed the kind of concern and courage I think it takes to provide a way out. He was one of the first people that year to give me a glimpse of hope and a hint of help, and I am forever grateful.

Running away from warped love

I think it was wilderness explorer John Muir who said, “Every walk in nature bears unexpected delights” … or something like that. (Ha — I Googled it and found I had paraphrased very liberally. The real Muir quotation is: “In every walk with nature one receives far more than he seeks.”)

The same is true with every outdoor run. Today I found a discarded love note and I encountered a pair of love birds — that is: not one, but two Great Blue Herons, which, upon my arrival, began scooping and swooping to elude the intruder of their interlude. What a majestic and memorable sight!

*             *             *             *             *

 

I’m psyched up for an important race this weekend: The Linda Yalem Safety Run at the University at Buffalo. I spent the most miserable time of my life at UB. That was two decades ago, but the events of that year still follow me. So while I have historically avoided Sunday morning races because they conflict with the traditional Christian worship hour, I felt compelled to register for this race for therapeutic reasons. I’m returning to the site of my misery … in the spirit of redemption.

Darkness — so much night, between the overcast western New York winter and the recurrent bouts of insomnia — swallowed most of my hope in those fear-filled days. Warped love left me dazed and disoriented, unable to object to the oppression or even articulate the predicament to anyone who attempted to ask. I loyally guarded the truth about our relationship as if my life depended on absolute secrecy. Some days, I felt as if it did. Throughout that year I bore and wore the weight of my abuse like a heavy cloak. Forget the “Freshman Fifteen”—I gained 30 pounds first semester!  I felt utterly alone, but I know now I never was. God provided a way out from the clutches of a destructive force so strong that I very nearly lost my sense of self. [There’s much more to be written about this … someday ...]

October is Domestic Violence Awareness month. For me and for others who have experienced this albatross in another form, it is also an opportunity to talk about the other DV: Dating Violence. On the eve of October, I will run because I am free. Because I escaped. Because others can escape, too. (I can help! So can you!) And I’ll run for the sake of the person who temporarily overpowered me — for three years, three months and 27 days. Because I believe even the perpetrators of violence are victims of the tyranny of evil. And because I believe that they, too, can be redeemed.

“With God, all things are possible.” — Matthew 19:26

A starting point

Plenty of company

Evidentally, I'm not the only one "eating this book"...

Schoolgirl giddy about taking to the stage

It might well be the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever done. And also the most fun.

This Saturday afternoon I make my debut at the Pratt Opera House in Downtown Albion. It’s true! I co-star with Maarit Vaga and Kristina Phillips in a super-silly Gilbert and Sullivan song called “Three Little Maids from School.”

Mind you, all of us are married women, our schoolgirl days long behind us. But our rehearsals have had us twirling, giggling, be-bopping and behaving like ladies half our age, at least. I’m so glad I accepted this preposterous proposal:

“Yes!” I gushed — “I would love to perform in a mini-vaudeville show” (even though I haven’t stepped on a stage since 1992).

“OK!” I eagerly agreed — “I will wear a kimono and a wig and flip-flops with socks” (even though I’m pretty sure I’ll be sweating so much all my make-up will melt off in the first three measures).

“Yum-Yum?! My name is Yum-Yum?! Sure, I’ll play that part,”I promised (and I’ll take no offense at all when my now-British BFF LOLs at me over instant-message and informs me that Yum Yums are a popular brand of doughnuts across the pond).

The very dignified Darryl Smith is our collaborator (aka accompanist).

Come see for yourself: This Saturday, September 22, 2-5 pm —our little show and other fun stuff happening in and around the Pratt Opera House (about the middle of the block just south of the Erie Canal, on the west side of Main Street). Admission is free. The memory will be priceless.

I know I can, I know I can...

Today marks the end of my Eat To Live experiment. It worked! As advertised — a little better, even. The book cover promo proffered : “Lose 20 lbs. or more in 6 weeks.” I lost 22. 

The hardest part about it — well, besides the first four days of intensive caffeine withdrawal, including headaches, nausea and a low-grade fever — was eating only three times per day. I had always been a nosher who felt compelled to consume at tummy’s first rumble. Heck, I didn’t even need a rumble. I often at each and every sign or notion of food … because I was bored, stressed, or “just because.”

The same wise, willowy doc who had attempted to persuade me to change my eating habits in the past tried to tell me all it would take is “a few small changes” to achieve better health and find freedom from gluttony. I did not believe her. And I still think she was wrong. What I needed was a radical overhaul, and Eat To Live has filled that bill.

So, what now? More of the same. I’m won over to this lifestyle. I actually like eating this way. I like the way it makes me feel — less anxious, desperate and helpless; more calm, collected and in control of my dietary destiny.

Actually, I think it was the epiphany I experienced on a jog 22 pounds ago that led me to finally defeat defeatism in my eating life. Remember? I was heading out one Sunday afternoon, reflecting on my feelings of shame for having eaten this, that and the other thing, plus seconds, when my memory jolted me with the Scripture: “[I may be ashamed of my bad eating habits, BUT] I am not ashamed of the gospel because it the power of God for the salvation of everyone who believes.” (Romans 1:16)

As I jogged, I reaffirmed my faith and I also thought: Maybe (ha — ya think?!) … maybe this power of God can not only save my soul for eternity but also save my soul from slavery to the sin of gluttony. Yes! Yes, I believe that’s part of the divine plan — save these poor people, here and now and forever! That’s when I decided I could do it, through the power of God working through me. I had/have been underutilizing God’s power for far too long, living a lesser life than I’m meant to enjoy … and not only to enjoy, but also to help others. By taking better care of my own soul, I am better equipped to bless the people around me — primed and ready! I thank God for providing this insight and this “indescribable gift” — a divine sacrifice that empowers us to live abundantly while on earth and live eternally in the hereafter.

That’s how I feel — not just less anxious and more controlled, but empowered! Something I had not thought possible (oh me of little faith) is actually happening! Now I wonder: What else might I be capable of doing through God’s power?! First on my list and the object of my next experiment: Conquering clutter! Cliché, I know, but this is something that has weighed me down for years, and I refuse to cower under its oppressive influence any longer. By next Saturday, I will have completed my next go-to guide, Taking the “U” Out of Clutter (by Mark Brunetz and Carmen Renee Berry), and I will begin another six-week leg on my journey to Yes!

 

i thank You God for most this amazing
day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday; this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any — lifted from the no
of all nothing — human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

e. e. cummings

A Very Veggie Transformation, Begun

I finally started doing something I’ve known I should be doing for years: Eating my veggies.

Photo: Fithacker.com

Oh, I’ve eaten veggies before, of course — but somewhat reluctantly, and with embarrassing infrequence. The thing is, I felt I was getting away with it, my participation in the consumption culture I now know as MAD: The “Modern American Diet.” Over-sized portions of over-processed, over-packaged, under-nutritious faux food…fillers!

Sure, I was hefting some extra flub on my figure, but look around: Most folks are. I fit in, so to speak. Sure, I wanted to be slender like the models on magazine covers, or like the Olympic athletes, but I felt fine, slept fine, and didn’t have any health problems beyond the occasional cold. I kept wanting to lose weight, but I lacked a truly motivating reason, even though I sought one. Twice in the past five years, I went to my doctor and requested blood work to check my levels (you know — triglycerides, cholesterol, that sort of stuff). I thought maybe my stats could scare me into eating better, to regain or preserve my well-being. Both times, the numbers came back negative for any signs of doom.

“You have the blood of an athlete!” one doctor beamed. Ironically, that wasn’t what I wanted to hear. I wanted to hear, “Whoa! You’re teetering on the edge of disaster. You’d better start eating your veggies or else you’ll spontaneously combust in 30 days.”

One wise, willowy doc tried talking to me about the cumulative effects of my dietary habits. “Sure, you feel great now,” she warned. “You even look pretty good. But it’s because you’re young. Eventually, those crummy choices will catch up with you.” I wanted to believe her, yet I noshed on.

The one thing that disturbed me about my habits, aside from my excess flesh, was…well, my conscience. “She who knows the good she ought to do and does not do it, sins.” (James 4:17) (Or, for my friends who cringe at the “s” word, there’s the eloquent Eugene Peterson’s paraphrase: “If you know the right thing to do and don’t do it — that, for you, is evil.”) It might seem like an unreasonable burden of responsibility to bear over something as simple as menu selections. Even the Scriptures say: “The kingdom of God is not a matter of eating and drinking, but of righteousness, peace and joy in the Holy Spirit.” (Romans 14:17)

But, try as I have for my 37 ½ years so far, I can’t escape the hunch that food matters — what, when, why, how, and how much. I realize there are more important things than what I might choose for my mid-afternoon snack — important things like “righteousness, peace and joy in the Holy Spirit,” which tend to elude me when I’m stuffing my face with orange marshmallow circus peanuts.

About a month ago, I stumbled across a blog post about a book called Eat To Live by Joel Fuhrman, MD. Three weeks ago, I started reading it. Two weeks ago, I started “eating to live” (consuming fruits, veggies, beans, nuts, seeds, and not much else — this, for the first 6 weeks). Now, I honestly don’t know if I could go back to my old MAD way of life. I’ve lost 15 pounds in my first 15 days dwelling in this brave new world: The land of fresh produce.

Fresh produce is not new to these parts — that is, the town in which I have resided for most of my life. But it is new to “these parts” — that is, my suddenly sated organs, limbs and liquid matter. And I feel…well, refreshed!

Huff-Puff-A-Tron

After yesterday's huff-puff post, I found this fun photo/link on Facebook. Why not try a little play therapy today?

Sally and Nick want to fly their kite, but there’s no wind! Help the Cat in the Hat use his breeze machine by matching shapes and colors in ‘Huff-Puff-a-Tron’ - http://to.pbs.org/szKJhU

Running Shorts

I need to run my own race. That’s the thought that came to me while — what else? — running recently. There’s tons of advice from strangers and well-meaning friends, bombarding and distracting me at every turn (or every click of the mouse, more like). Do I need more advice? Probably not. But I need more time with my Advisor … the Author and Perfector of my Faith … and of me!

*             *             *             *             *

btw, like my new running skorts?
msg me to get your own < $30

On another recent run, I started out fretting that I have not yet gained control over my eating habits — not enough veggies, too many sweets, too much overall… “I’m so ashamed of myself,” I thought. Key word: “ashamed.” Jump! “I am not ashamed of the gospel because it is the power of God for the salvation of everyone who believes; first for the Jew, then for the Gentile.” That’s a verse I learned in Bible Quizzing, decades ago. I still remember it, and I still believe it. For the rest of my run, rather than scolding myself, I told myself the truth by quoting that verse and letting God lead me into prayer … and peace.

Later on that same jaunt, God showed me a bluebird! Second one of the year! “Thank You,” I huffed. “Thank You,” I puffed. “Thank You (huff) for the depth of Your love (puff) and the breadth of Your provision (huff, puff, hallelujah).”

(Photo: http://birds.wikia.com/wiki/Eastern_bluebird)

Sunday Lament

photo from http://ordinarysparrow.wordpress.com/

My messes seem too much, O Lord,
my debts too deep,
my habits too entrenched—
and my sweat-efforts trickle
like futile droplets onto a parched prairie.

(Not necessarily a desert—if it were a desert, I suppose I should truly despair.
But now I merely complain and fret
to my God, to myself, and to faithful friends who frequent this blog):

Will I ever live in a somewhat tidy house, devoid of

teensy toys, cracker crumbs, and cardboard boxes
failing to contain the masses of mementoes;
where empty crevices covet clutter and
heirlooms, books and breakables tremble,
ever-vulnerable to destruction?

Will there ever be a day when, as in days of young,

I do not bear the weight of worry when I consider
the Mountain of Expenses
compared to my molehill of money?

Darn you, drought! You discourage me.

But you have not drenched my hope.
You try to douse my dreams with dry heat,
but know:

The River of Life flows within me—

even on days when, in my sad stupor,
I cannot hear its roar.

Why should I feel discouraged,
Why should the shadows come,
Why should my heart be lonely
And long for Heav'n and home,
When Jesus is my portion?
My constant Friend is He:
His eye is on the sparrow,
And I know He watches me;
His eye is on the sparrow,
And I know He watches me.

(There's no place like) Our Home

Newsroom

Child care center

Book distribution warehouse

Prayer closet

Library

Diner (notice I didn’t say “restaurant”)

Art gallery

Laundromat

Baseball card crypt

Dormitory

Blog headquarters

(Thanks for visiting!)

Saturday shorts: Library love | Lucky 7's | Sweet struggle

…as in: I wish I had a decent pair of shorts to wear to beat this heat!

…and as in: I’ve only got time for a few short reflections on this super-busy Saturday.

1) The Hoag Library has opened today, and all of A-Town seems elated. OK, not everybody, but certainly the steady stream of folks who’ve strolled through, gape-mouthed and beaming, since Hoag’s doors opened at 11 a.m.

Photo courtesy of The Daily News (vis-a-vis Tom Rivers)

Tom and I were among the privileged few (maybe 100? I’m not a great guesstimator) who got to “sneak peak” the place last evening. I can’t quite articulate the positive emotional charge buzzing about my spirit since stepping foot in that beautiful building, so I’ll just say—in concurrence with the legacy of my friend Gwen’s lovely little Evan: “My heart is happy.”

2) Tom and I are both bound for our 20-year high school class reunions tonight, in our respective hometowns, two hours apart. To quote my quotable father: “What are the odds?” {that our reunions were scheduled on the same day…}

Dad would also ask for a number on the occasion of such a coincidence. (In fact, he did ask for a number this morning when I told him.) His far-fetched theory is that playing a number derived from an uncanny happenstance should surely increase a person’s chances of winning the lottery. Like I said, it’s far-fetched…and (mostly) facetious. So I just played along and said, “Seven, seven.” Today’s date, of course. A few hours later, it occurs to me that Tom and I both ranked seventh in our high school classes. {cue Twilight Zone music}

3) Lastly, I do declare, for the umpteenth, that sugar is the sworn enemy of Marsha! After I posted my discovery of delicious Darrell Lea licorice, I discovered the availability of said sweet on Amazon.com Subscribe & Save. {sigh!} Plus, I discovered the mango flavored kind — killer, killer! Please pray for me. (I am not being facetious.)

Smitten waterfowl…and other stuff that’s just ducky!

^ Of the gazillion-trillion pieces of paper that have migrated from the school to our house since September, I think this is my favorite. For reasons that defy explanation. (Or, perhaps I should say, for obvious reasons.)

< This piece, entitled “Sleepyheads,” is a close second. It reminds me of the crazy quilt my mother made in the early ’70s. (Have I blogged about it before? If not, I must. It is my most prized possession.)

Goodbye, Panda—G’Day, Darrell Lea!>

Best licorice I’ve tasted in…well, ever!

Discovered it today at Rite Aid,

our corner drugstore.

This is potentially problematic.

 As are these sweet potato fries.

When did this

sumptuous-temptation-masquerading-as-an-antioxident-rich-superfood 

join the BK royal menu?!

I just noticed. Unfortunately for my jeans. >

 

< And finally, a happy ending: I recently received this love-ly homemade wedding invitation and am eagerly anticipating a joyous celebration with G&G, the bride- and groom-to-be.

Kindergarten graduation elicits mixed emotions

Lucy dashes to the kinder-grad gathering spot.

I just returned from the paparazzi festival known as A-town kindergarten graduation. Seriously, the Buffalo News editorialist is right: We take too many pictures, people! It’s as if our main purpose in life has become chronicling it rather than experiencing it.

I’ve always been a bit wet blanket-ish about kinder-grad. I mean, c’mon—it’s kindergarten. I’m glad the kids made it through, most of them having learned the alphabet in its entirety and their numbers 1 through 100, but the ceremony seems superfluous.

The “graduates” process into the auditorium (or get herded in, rather, by their harried teachers, who realllllllly neeeeeed that summer vacation!). The superintendent and the principal offer platitudes about the importance of education, bright future, blah, blah, blah, and the children walk across the platform to receive their “diplomas.”

But! Not before the paparazzi—er, parents—take their places at the designated picture-taking seating section situated just below stage right. Yes, really—it’s built right into the program: “Will one representative from each child in Mrs. So-and-so’s class please come forward to the picture-taking area?” 

I refused to go. A decision made easier by Grandma’s eagerness to join the media frenzy. She even shot video footage, a topic for another day. (I mean who watches home videos…ever? Especially if there are hundreds—nay, thousands of accumulated, unedited hours? Not me. No, thank you. There are too many books and not enough time.)

Still, I was caught off guard by the magnitude of the moment—ridiculousness and all—when the canned bagpipes droned over the loudspeakers, signaling the entrance of 79 6-year-olds into the room (representing half the A-town Class of 2024—the silly ceremony would be repeated later for the other half). Little people embodying the hopes and dreams, failures and foibles of their families. Sappy Sallys like the teary-eyed mom to my right and dubious Debbies like the eye-rolling mom to my left.

Both mothers were me, and I sniffled in spite of my cynical self.