The Canadas
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Winter 2000 News Like Mother, Like Father,
Like Daughter Updated August 11, 2002 |
Snow!The highlight of the season was the rare appearance of snow in Laurinburg. Having grown up in Indiana, both Lisa and I had seen plenty of snow, but since moving to North Carolina we have lived almost entirely without it, especially in Laurinburg, which is near the South Carolina border. When it came, not once but twice this winter, it was something special. It didn’t take a freak of nature, however, to entertain us this season. As Essie grows up, she brings us new kinds of joy. As she entered her third year of life, she was not only walking and talking, but picking up some adult habits—for better or worse. Being there with her was a lot of fun and a lot of laughs for her parents. |
Snow Comes to Laurinburg
January
2000: I don't think of myself as a nostalgic person, especially when it
comes to snow. Before moving to North Carolina in 1992, I spent the first 26
winters of my life in Indiana, where I became really, really tired of snow. I
shoveled it, I drove in it, and, yes, I really did walk nearly a mile to school
in it. Later, when Lisa and I were living in Fort Wayne without a car, I again
walked through it to get to work. I seem to remember trick-or-treating in snow
when I was a kid, and I know I remember snow falling on the day Lisa and I
graduated from Indiana University--in May. We came to North Carolina partly to
escape from Indiana winters.
It worked. We hardly ever see--or shovel or drive in or trudge through--snow here, and I don't miss it a bit. Last night, however, something strange happened. It snowed. Then something stranger happened. It touched me--only lightly at first, like the big white flakes that fluttered down on my jacket as I walked out of church. I hardly noticed. But when I walked up our driveway and heard a creak under my foot, I felt it. Then, this morning, I built Essie a snowman, the first one I've made in probably two decades, and I felt it again. I won't call it nostalgia, but just an eerie flash of recognition, like the feeling I get when I smell freshly cut grass or new asphalt. It's a sense that makes me think that we don't have to love home or even to miss it, but there are times when we cannot help but feel it.
Two days later, after the first batch was almost entirely gone, we woke up to more snow, about a foot of it. School was closed, of course, so I got to stay home with Lisa and Essie. Our friends Jesse Peters and Susan Cannata joined us, and we threw snowballs, took pictures, and pulled Essie in Susan's toboggan. Later, we came inside for hot chocolate, soup, and an afternoon by the fireplace.
Like Mother, Like Father, Like Daughter
January: Does any job carry more stress than parenthood? Even police officers and air-traffic controllers get to punch out once in a while. Moms and Dads, on the other hand, get to worry around the clock. We worry about sins of commission--about tripping and dropping the baby down a mineshaft, for instance. We worry, too, about sins of omission; if we turn our heads or fall asleep, we fear, the toddler will decide to take the car for a spin or redecorate the kitchen in periwinkle and burnt umber. The other night, I fell asleep on the sofa in the living room, and Lisa nodded off on the futon in the playroom. The only one awake in the house, it turned out, was Essie, whom I found sitting in front the TV watching Matlock. I guess things could have been worse.
On top of all these worries is the concern is that we will scar our children by setting poor examples. I forget how much Essie notices until I catch her imitating one of us. Months ago, while she was still only a year and a half or so, we noticed her dipping her tortilla chips in salsa. The other day, I had been playing bullfighter with her--waving a placemat and encouraging her to run past me; later, we saw her holding the same placemat and calling "Toro!" I am happy to report that the bulk of this imitative behavior has been innocuous, but we confess that we have been the source of a couple of bad habits. Thanks to Mommy, for example, Essie is already a java junkie--though she fortunately is content with decaf. From Daddy, she has learned to tip up her bowl and drink her soup. As her weakness for Matlock, no one in the house is claiming responsibility.
Personal Trainer
Winter: Essie and I have been workout buddies ever
since she was just a few months old. At first, she just rode along in her
stroller during my runs around the neighborhood. Later, she joined me for my
bike rides and even hopped along with me when I jumped rope in the carport. It
was only recently, though, that she promoted herself to my personal trainer. A
few days ago, when the recent snowstorm had closed the gym, I had to work out at
home, and I enlisted Essie as my free weight. Though she had been content to
sit back and enjoy the ride when I ran or rode, she turned into a taskmaster
when it came to weight training. Riding on my back while I did push-ups, she
called, "Up! Down! Up! Down!" Not content with merely being my
makeshift curl bar, she decided to count out loud as I lifted her, but took a
sneaky approach obviously designed to squeeze a few extra reps out of me. She
called out: "One, two, three, four, five, four, five . . ." As if
that wasn't bad enough, no sooner had I set her down than she insisted,
"Again!" I know that she simply wants to draw out my best, but I
don't know how long I can keep this up, especially since I suspect her
sneakiest trick is yet to come--I think my free weight is going to get heavier.