Canadas at Home: Family in 1998

Happy New Year

January 1, 1998: As a lover of things new and good, I especially love the New Year, which invites us to leave our past mistakes and find the best in us. In his autobiography, Benjamin Franklin says of his plan to reform himself: "It was about this time that I conceiv'd the bold and arduous Project of arriving at moral Perfection." Because he knew the difference between right and wrong, Franklin wrote, he saw no reason why he couldn't do one and avoid the other. I suppose that the novelist D.H. Lawrence, who sneered at Franklin's optimism, is not the only person to dismiss Franklin as simple and unrealistic. Still, while we may never eliminate all the natural disasters and diseases that challenge us, surely even many of the Lawrences of the world will agree that we can make ourselves and our neighbors more peaceful, less lonely, more loving. Once natural disposition, societal pressures, and other forces have had their say, we ultimately choose and act. Let us choose good and act well.

Esprit arrives

 January 18, 1998: With one exception, this weekend was a typically uneventful one for us. On Saturday, Lisa and I drove up to Aberdeen to do our grocery shopping at Super Kmart and had lunch at the Lone Star Steakhouse. At home, we took a nap, I horsed around on the Internet, and Lisa talked to her sister Jessica on the phone. That evening, on a lark, we watched television's answer to the B movie, "Walker: Texas Ranger," and went to bed at 11. It was about that time that things started becoming exceptional.

After months of anticipation, a few weeks of false labor pains, and a whole day of strong but irregular contractions, Lisa experienced a series of regular contractions about 10 minutes apart--the first signs that the baby girl who had been residing in our imagination was ready to make her appearance on earth. By 1:30 a.m., we were at the hospital. At 7:52 Sunday morning, the world--especially ours--took on a new, pinkish, beautiful hue. All 6 pounds, 9 ounces, and 21 inches of Esprit Canada had arrived.

It's nearly 12 hours later now, and I'm sitting here in a dim hospital room in Laurinburg, North Carolina, with two people who have changed my life. As I sit here watching both of them sleep, I realize that trying to explain what the newest one means to me would be as fruitless as trying to describe the boundless, transcendent love I have for her mother. All I can do with any precision is to recount a few of the rich moments that accompanied her arrival.

I remember pain--the awful pain that I saw on Lisa's face as we walked down the empty hospital halls, trying to ease and advance her labor, and as I stood by her bed for hours, helping her to breathe through the contractions. I remember relief--the relief I sensed in Lisa when a wonderful nurse named Paula Edwards gently stroked her and comforted her in the early stages of her labor, but even more my own relief when our midwife, Alma Kay Woolard, came into the delivery room at 5 a.m. By that time, I knew that Lisa desperately needed more than what I could give her; she needed the additional comfort and confidence that Alma Kay, who has supported her since the early months of her pregnancy, could provide. Alma Kay came through splendidly with a combination of sensitivity and aplomb that I will never forget. Finally, and greatest of all, I remember joy--the joy born of pain, relief, and love as I saw for the first time Esprit's tiny face and knew that she was our child.

I have heard that the love that parents have for their children is even greater than the love they feel for each other. I find it hard to imagine any love greater than my love for Lisa, who is more to me than I am to myself. I do know, though, that the love I felt for Esprit the first time I saw her was the most immediate I have ever known, for, while every other person I have known in my adult life has come to me as a stranger, this little person was someone I already knew and deeply loved.

Esprit Nueva Canada
Born at 7:52 a.m., January 18, 1998
6 pounds, 9 ounces
21 inches long
"Esprit" (pronounced es-PREE) is a French word that means many special things, including "spirit," "soul," "mind," "wit," "humor," and "character."
"Nueva" (pronounced nue-AE-vah) is the Spanish word for "new."

January 23, 1998: We would like to thank the many people who have helped us celebrate our new arrival with their warm wishes and beautiful gifts. The pictures below show the crib and bumper pad from my parents, a baby blanket from our friends Sandy and Michael Roberts, a knitted blanket from our neighbor Aileen Willis, and the flowers from my parents and my colleagues in the Communicative Arts Department at the University of North Carolina at Pembroke. Not pictured are the dozens of baby shower gifts from Lisa's family and the many cards and wishes from our friends.

 

 

The New Teacher in the House

March 7, 1998: Being a teacher, I have been looking forward to educating my new daughter in all the things I love: literature, history, music, baseball. For these first few weeks, however, the lessons have been flowing in the opposite direction. Here are a few highlights from my first semester of fatherhood school, conducted by Professor Esprit Canada:

 

 

The Delight of Our Lives

May 8, 1998: During a class at church a few weeks ago, our pastor suggested that we parents tell our children how much they mean to us. Hold them up, he said, and tell them they are the delight of your lives. If ever Father Kevin was preaching to the converted, it was then. Ever since Esprit came into our lives four months ago, she has enchanted us with her bright eyes, gorgeous smile, and innocent face. If she did nothing else, we would find plenty of occasions to love her, praise her, kiss her, and generally fawn all over her. But she is not one to rest on our her laurels and has been busy developing new ways to make us smile, laugh, and melt. About a month ago, she started smiling, and now she can't stop. When Lisa or I come into her line of vision, particularly if we have been away for a while, she will pause, think for a moment, and then break into a toothless grin the size of Texas. A few weeks later, she discovered her toys, especially the swinging Pooh and Tigger on her bouncer, and now she regularly reaches for them, grabs them, and even pushes and pulls them. Just today, she found that she could grab her own foot and has been performing that trick all day long. She also has been showing signs that she may roll over soon; the day before yesterday, she reached the three-quarter point several times. All of these things and more--the way she kicks her legs as if she's riding a bicycle, her love for her baths, her habit of fixating on bedposts and Venetian blinds--make her the delight of our lives, and we make sure she knows that.

 

 

Father's Day

June: Since January 18, every day has been Father's Day for me. I relish my little daughter and this new life of mine, even if sometimes I can't believe it's true. Apparently, Esprit thinks every day is Father's Day, too, because she has been extraordinarily generous, continually showering me with her gifts of smiles, pats, and, every once in a while, a chuckle. For the real Father's Day, however, she went the extra mile and teamed up with her mom to make me this beautiful card:

 

Summer

June 1998: Several people have asked me what I plan to do this summer, often inquiring whether I will teach summer school. As a matter of fact, I am teaching a section of Composition II at Richmond Community College, where the University of North Carolina at Pembroke operates a satellite program, but I have plenty to do outside the classroom. For one thing, I have several writing projects, including an article on the origin and development of the short story in the American South up to 1900 for a book called A Companion to Southern Literature. I'm trying to draw on the experience of researching and writing this article as I help my composition students write their research papers.

I also have been busy planning for the fall, when I will teach two courses--Freshman Seminar and Issues in Contemporary American English--for the first time, as well as two other courses--Major American Authors and Composition II--that I already have taught. I have had a particularly good time preparing the syllabus and lesson plans for Freshman Seminar, which is designed to help students read, study, take notes, and generally succeed in college. Having seen many students who do not reach their potentials because they lack study skills, I look forward to helping my students be their best.

At the beginning of this month, Lisa, Esprit, and I drove down to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, where I attended Literature and Literacy in an Age of Technology, a conference sponsored by the National Council of Teachers of English. In preparation, I read a packet of articles on teaching and technology, and I quickly became excited about several ways to increase my use of technology in the classroom. In past semesters, I have had students contribute to my sites on American culture and the English language, and I hope to expand each of these sites in the fall. I also plan to begin online discussions, in which students can share their ideas on literature and language.

Finally, summer has been a great opportunity to spend more time with Lisa and Esprit. Like me, Esprit is an early riser--very early, in fact--and we spend a lot of time together in the morning playing, reading poetry, and listening to music. In the afternoon, I usually take her for a walk and sometimes go for a run on my own. Finally, when Essie has turned in, Lisa and I have a little time alone to eat a couple of slices of one of her rhubarb pies, watch a rerun of The X-Files, or just talk. We also have gotten out of the house several times. A few days ago, the three of us took a picnic dinner to After Five, an outdoor event where scores of people in Laurinburg come together to listen to music, visit, and relax. Esprit, who loves to get out, had an especially good time.

 

 

Esprit's Midwest Debut

One of the great joys of having a new daughter is sharing her with our families. July: While some of her relatives, including both sets of grandparents, already had seen Esprit at her baptism here in North Carolina in April, most had to wait until we made our annual summer trip back to the Midwest. During that trip, which lasted for the almost entire month of July, Essie saw her grandparents and godparents again and met for the first time 21 aunts and uncles, 23 cousins, one great-grandfather, and an assortment of great-aunts, great-uncles, and second-cousins.

In Indianapolis, my parents relished the opportunity to spend two weeks with their only grandchild. For her part, Essie must have felt as if she had wandered into an amusement park. She went for horsey rides on my dad's knee, played with the few thousand toys my mom showered on her, posed for pictures, went for walks, and, when she was thoroughly exhausted, slept blissfully on Granny's and Grampy's chests and shoulders. In Fort Wayne, Lisa's parents sang to her and walked with her, and Lisa's mom made her cloth "doughnut," in which she could sit and play with her toys or just sit back and relax. Thanks to the hospitality of some of her aunts and uncles, Essie also had the chance to spend some quality time with many of her cousins. While Lisa, Essie, and I stayed with Chris and Carolyn Henry, Essie played with their children--Lindsey, Allison, and Sam--and, during a brunch at the home of Mart and Vicki Henry, their children--Heather, Becky, Jamie, and Jake--entertained her. Finally, the three of us visited Lisa's brother Erik and his wife, Mary Kay, in Naperville, Illinois, where she met her cousins Andrew, Haley, and Ryan. The time Es spent with Haley was one of the most memorable parts of our entire trip--at least for me. Haley, who is 5, immediately fell in love with Essie and for the next 24 hours rarely left her side. In addition to introducing her to a variety of toys and pushing her stroller, Haley showed an uncanny ability to read Essie's mind. Whenever Essie began to fuss, Haley was quick to diagnose the problem; with a sly smile, she would say, "I think she wants me to hold her," and then hoist up Essie's body--which is nearly the size of her own--into her arms. Essie enjoyed the experience as much as Haley, and I--sitting by and watching them relish each other--had the most fun of all.

 

Mark at Work

November 27, 1998: My job continues to make me feel busy and blessed. Over the past few months, I have taught five classes, given a presentation on Edgar Allan Poe, written an article on Southern literature, and seen my first article appear in print.

Last week, while I was waiting for a dinner at our church to begin, I was reading an article that I had assigned to one of my classes. "Are you studying?" someone asked. I gave her the short answer--that I'm a professor. The wonderful truth about my job, however, is that I am studying, as well as learning and growing, all the time. All anyone asks of me is to share that enriching experience with my students and colleagues--a role I am more than willing to play. This semester, I have had the opportunity to study one of my favorite subjects, the English language, in some depth as I design and teach my first graduate course, "Contemporary Issues in American English." Knowing that many English students learn a lot about literature without ever exploring the language that makes up that literature, I have made a point of exposing the 11 students in this class to all of the fundamental linguistic concepts while also giving them opportunities to apply their knowledge. In one of my favorite exercises, for example, the students and I used what we know about English syntax to analyze how computer grammar checkers work--or don't work. We also have explored how words enter the language, studied child language acquisition, and drawn on our understanding of speech sounds, vocabulary, syntax, and semantics to analyze the ways that politicians, journalists, and poets use language. The students, I am happy to say, have responded with enthusiasm and have contributed their own intelligence and excitement about the language to make the course a success. In the last few weeks, in fact, they have taken over the teaching, giving presentations on topics such as slang and jargon.

I also have been active studying, researching, and teaching my other favorite subject, American literature. When the semester began, I was finishing writing my second article for an upcoming reference book called A Companion to Southern Literature. In the first article, I had traced the development of the Southern short story from its beginnings to 1900, covering the works of Edgar Allan Poe, Mark Twain, and several other writers. If this article provided me with an opportunity to do some expansive research, the second one gave a chance to have some fun. In this one, I analyzed sheriff characters in Southern fiction. While I was sure to look at sheriffs in classic works such as William Faulkner's The Bear and James Dickey's Deliverance, I also knew that the best-known Southern sheriffs have come from somewhat less literary sources. As a result, I have become perhaps one of the few writers in the world to mention William Faulkner, James Dickey, Roscoe P. Coltrane, and Buford T. Justice in the same article. While I will have to wait until next year to see these articles in print, I had the great satisfaction of seeing another article I wrote, "The Right Brain in Poe's Creative Process," appear in the fall issue of The Southern Quarterly. I also learned that my article "Flight into Fancy: Poe's Discovery of the Right Brain" will appear in another literary journal, The Southern Literary Journal. Finally, I taught two sections of "Major American Authors," a survey course covering the history of American literature from the creation stories of Native Americans and narratives of early explorers such as Captain John Smith to contemporary writers such as Richard Wilbur and Rita Dove. Because I believe that an appreciation of American literature and culture can enrich a person in life-changing ways, I pack a lot in this course. In addition to studying dozens of poems and stories, several pieces of nonfiction, a novel, and a play by some 30 authors, we frequently delve into the history and geography of America. Many of the students who have stuck with the course have done outstanding work in their journals, discussions, and course projects. Indeed, I was pleased to publish some of these projects--including ones on the poets Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Edwin Arlington Robinson, and Shelby Stephenson--on All American, a World Wide Web site I have developed to help people study and appreciate American literature and culture.

 

 

A Year of Firsts

November 30, 1998: One of the baby shower gifts we brought home from Indiana a year and a half ago is an entertainment center with a seat and several toys, including a star that plays "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" when you press it. When Essie was a few months old, we started putting her in the seat and encouraging her to play with the toys. The one that fascinated her more than all the others was the star. For several minutes--an eternity in baby time--she would stare at it, gradually learning to press or swat it. For weeks, however, she was not strong or coordinated enough to hit it just right and make it play the song. Lisa and I used to sit down next to her and demonstrate, sometimes using her hand and our strength to press the star. At times, Essie would get frustrated because she wanted so badly to make the star play, but she couldn't quite do it herself. One day, during the usual routine of her attempts and my encouragement, she hit it just right, and it played. She hit it again, and it played again. By the time she had played it for the fifth time all by herself, we both were glowing. To look at me, you would have thought she had just composed a symphony.

How quickly things change. Since that little breakthrough, our little star has done a lot of twinkling in this year of firsts. While the two big milestones--walking and talking--are still to come, Essie already has covered a lot of ground, usually on all fours. Indeed, learning to crawl has opened up a new world for our little daughter, who now spends virtually all of her waking hours crawling around the house, grabbing everything she can reach and beaming all the while. In the kitchen, she goes right for the Tupperware cabinet, carefully opens it with her index finger, stands up, and begins pulling out plastic cups and lids and scattering them on the floor. In the utility room, she stands next to the washer and slaps the side of it, delighting in the hollow booming sound. In the den, where I am writing this, she is sitting on the floor behind my chair waving a pair of her shoes and babbling. Sometimes, when I am working and Lisa is watching her in another room, I hear her coming, clopping like a little horse because she is carrying a little box or a Tupperware lid in each hand. Last month, Lisa dressed her up, and we took her out for her first Halloween. Dressed as a penguin in a costume that Lisa made, she joined her friend Heydon, a fireman, to trick-or-treat at some friends' houses. Although she cooperated well, she didn't quite understand the holiday's appeal. For an hour or so, Mommy and Daddy took her in and out of the car and paraded her up to houses in the dark. When it was all over, they ate her candy. Maybe Christmas will be better.

As Essie's physical talents have developed, so has her personality. Judging from her propensity for mirrors, we have long recognized her vanity, but now we also can appreciate other traits. She makes her love for music apparent, for example, by bouncing and waving her arms when she hears a particularly lyrical melody. Like her mom and dad, she also enjoys the outdoors, where she gets to ride in a stroller or just sit contentedly and watch us rake or wash the car. Her most distinctive trait, however, is her joie de vivre. Virtually everything she sees or does makes her face burst open in an enormous grin. As I sit here writing this and listen to her babble and play, I look back at her every once in a while to see that she's OK. When she happens to notice me, she often flashes me one of these huge, delightful smiles, as if to say, "Isn't life wonderful, Dad?"

Yes, Esprit, it is.

 

 

Esprit's First Christmas

December 1998: A lesser baby might have been confused or even overwhelmed by the strange custom that adults called "Christmas." Just when you learn that a tree is something outdoors, one shows up in your living room. On the other hand, vanilla frosting--definitely an indoor creature--suddenly appears all over the ground outside. One day, for the first time in your life, everyone else is more excited than you, and they're rushing around, smiling, and laughing like--well, like you usually do for no reason at all. Then, after months of snatching away every shred of that delightful thing they call paper before you can properly enjoy it, they start handing you boxes covered with it and insisting that you tear it.

As a number of people close to her--chiefly blood relatives--will tell you, however, Essie Canada is no ordinary baby. Despite all of its strange features, she quickly made herself right at home with Christmas. For starters, she put up with an 11-hour car trip to Indiana, rarely protesting though she had to sit still for 10 hours and 57 minutes longer than she has done in the total amount of time she has lived on planet Earth. For this new patience, she--and her dad--have to thank Mommy, who strategically planned our itinerary around Essie's nap schedule: we left each morning just before morning nap time, drove three hours or so while she slept, stopped for a long lunch and let her stretch her legs, and drove another three hours while she took her afternoon nap.

When she arrived in Indianapolis, where my parents live, she almost immediately took to Granny and Grandpa, whom she had not seen in several months, and played for hours with them, even consenting to let Granny push her around in a laundry basket. With the help of a snow suit that earned her the nickname "the Michelin baby," she also made the adjustment to winter weather Midwest style, enduring temperatures in the teens without complaining. When Christmas finally came, she not only caught on to tearing the wrapping paper off her thousand or so gifts, but mastered the custom of marveling at the gifts, crying "Ooooh!" as they emerged from the colored paper. Finally, while she clearly enjoyed the interlocking boxes, ridable pig, and other toys that Santa Clause brought her, Esprit showed she understood that one of the true joys of Christmas is giving. Before we left home, she had taken only a few tentative steps. Over the course of our vacation, however, Esprit became a full-fledged walker, giving her grandparents in both Indianapolis and Fort Wayne the show of their lives and the best gift they could have imagined.

 

 

 

 

 

© Mark and Lisa Canada, 1999
canada@sassette.uncp.edu