Nathan on Nathan

With permission, here is what Nathan wrote to introduce himself to his Day Camp leaders this summer. It was a form letter with blanks to fill in; the italicized portions are his.

A Letter To My Group Leader

Date June 8, 2005

Dear Group Leader,

My name is Nathan. My friends call me Nate and Nathan. I will be in 2nd grade at school in the fall. I have 0 brothers, ages __, and 1 sisters, ages 5. When I am not in school, I like to play baseball, sketch Nature, sketch Spiderman, read and play Gameboy. But I don't like to sit around doing nothing. I am good at math, baseball and reading. I am coming to YMCA Day Camp Sand Point because I want to learn more about camping. At Day Camp Sand Point I want to have fun, make new friends, and help each other, but I don't think I would like to sit around doing nothing. I get along with friends that are happy, listin, help each other, and are in a good mood. Last summer I went camping, went to a rodeo, went river rafting, and a folk festival.

Other things you should know about me are I am 7 years old, I live on ** Ave, I am kind, I am honest, I like to sing, and I have 2 cats and 3 fish.

Camper's Signature: Nathan

Somewhere In My Youth or Childhood

... I must have done something good.

You might remember this post from around the holiday season, where I gave praise to whomever turned in a bag of Christmas gifts that I left on the bus. Well, once again I have to send a big old 'thank you' out to the person who found my... get this... Metro Flexpass (basically a yearlong free ticket to ride the bus that my company provides as an incentive to take mass transit rather than driving) along with my office keycard.

Folks, if you were to buy a comparable pass, it would cost nearly $1600. And yet... there it sits at the lost and found waiting for me to go get it. I'm cashing in some good karma points from somewhere down the line, and I'm very very grateful.

More Me

I've decided to branch out a bit... check out Metroblogging Seattle today for my first post. Short but sweet. I've committed to posting there at least thrice weekly, but it will be erratic so you'll just have to hit the site every day. Seattle locals should be doing so anyhow... lots of fun info about our city.

Happy Birthday, Boy!

But don't underestimate me...
I'm seven years tall
and all I need is a cape and a mask
so I can fly outta here
I can fly
- Eddie From Ohio

Seven (!) years ago today my life changed forever. I still remember the first morning I woke up in my own bed, my now empty tummy lying like an entity unto itself next to me. At first it felt like it might be any other morning, but then I heard the fruit of my loins stirring in his bassinet at the end of the bed. And I thought...

"What have I done, and is there any way I can get out of it?!?"

Not my proudest moment, that.

Luckily, it got better. My "NOT A NORMAL BABY!" has grown into a sweet, beautiful and smart little boy who wants to grow up to be a professional baseball player or a singer - at least today.

So much more to write, but I feel incapable of making much sense - too sleepy. Nathan had 4 boys over for a birthday slumber party last night... as would be expected, there wasn't much slumbering. They went to bed around 10:30 and were up and at 'em by 5:30. We survived 'em. Barely.

Heaven On A Stem

Oh my oh my. It's that time of year and I am sitting here savoring the first Rainier cherries of the season. We discovered these at Pike Place Market not long after moving to Seattle; like any good pusher of addictive substances, the market vendors used the "first one's free!" tactic which resulted in us walking out with a couple pounds and a lifelong yen.

I can't fully express how achingly we look forward to their brief appearance every year (they're only available for about two months - late May thru middish July). Blackberries are as brief and delectable a treat, but in August they're readily available all over town free for the picking (ah, the Pacific Northwest - even our weeds bear fruit!) so they don't have quite the same cachet as these delicate and beautiful blobs of sweetness.

What a fabulous weekend this is turning out to be.

Editorial Mea Culpa

So. Eddie Albert died yesterday. He was in his late 90's so there's not a lot of room for much sadness... the man had a good long life and passed on peacefully. But hearing of his death reminded me about how I have always confused Eddie Albert the actor and Eddy Arnold, the country-western singer that I remember fondly from my youth. So fondly, in fact, that I mentioned him last year in a post on his 96th birthday.

Wait a minute.

Sure enough... I messed them up last year. It was Eddie Albert's birthday that got me all nostalgiac about Eddy Arnold. Mr. Arnold is, as of this reporting, still alive and turned only 87 on his birthday last week. Geez.

Consider this my Dan Rather moment. So very very sorry. Will you ever trust me again?

The Heat is On

I know I shouldn't complain. Really I do. And yet, I will.

Yesterday the temperature reached the upper 80s. Today we're going to hit 90.

Degrees Fahrenheit.

Dear Capricious Weather Deities,

Perhaps you haven't noticed the date, but this weekend is Memorial Day in the Pacific Northwest. Traditionally, on this weekend, you provide us with rain and 50ish degrees, ruining any and all camping plans. Sometimes you bless us with 60s and sunbreaks. Every so often you look on us with great favour and give 70s and clear skies. All of these are acceptable, O Great Ones.

So I have a question as we swelter in our non-air-conditioned homes while the bright orb shines down mercilessly causing our eyes to burn and our throats to parch... have we done something horrific to offend you, or are you simply having a great laugh at our expense? If the former, what can we do to atone? If the latter... ha fucking ha.

Love you. Mean it.

Signed,
Suffering in Seattle

Robert, We Hardly Knew Ye

Today we bid a sad farewell to Robert, Nathan's betta fish and first proprietary pet. Although Robert was a member of our family for only six short weeks, we had become accustomed to his cheerful presence, and he will be sorely missed.

Named in honour of Nathan's baseball coach, Robert was light-blue and full of fishy vigor. During his short life, he enjoyed swimming, hiding in his fake-plant forest, and building bubble nests.

Goodbyes were said at a simple service in our backyard where we buried him (with some food and a hollow bone in which he might hide in his piscine afterlife) under the dogwood tree; his final resting place is marked by a lovely stone that Nathan picked out.

While many bitter tears were shed, we all agreed that we were happy that Robert spent his final days being cared for and loved by Nathan... for what better fate could any fish wish?

In addition to his human family, Robert is survived by his roommate (though not his tankmate!) Lucille, Sophie's bright-blue transsexual betta. She asks that in lieu of cards or flowers, donations be made in Robert's name to "Nathan and Sophie's Disneyland Fund."

Requiescat in pace, petit piscis.

Here Comes The Sun... I Mean Rain... I Mean...

I love this.

You know that saying... "Don't like the weather in {insert city}? Just wait 5 minutes." Yeah. For the last three days it's been literally true here.

Sun, rain, downpour, wind, sun, hail, thunder, lightning, downpour, drizzle, clouds, sun, rainbow, drizzle, downpour, sun.

And that's all before noon.

The Umpire Strikes Back

The year is 1984 and I'm a freshman at Coldwater High School. Then, as now, a hopeless romantic. Then, not-so-much as now, quite shy and unsure of myself.

The class is typing with Mrs. Jacoby. Not keyboarding, as a similar class would be called today. Typing. On IBM Selectrics, and a few spankin' new Wheelwriters.

The boy is quiet, with dark hair. He's a junior and he looks great in flannel shirts. He's on the wrestling team. I'm fairly certain I never say one word to him, but oh how I admire him from afar. I write his name, as anonymous lovesick girls do. I dream about him. I steal glances in class, look for him in the hallways and at lunch, take the long way to class so that I can pass by his locker. I'm a good-intentioned, non-threatening stalker.

On Valentine's Day, I send him a carnation. Of course I don't sign my name, only "Your Secret Admirer." (Yes, I am a cliche.) A very few of my girlfriends share my secret. I don't see him receive the flower, but I see him with it later and wonder if he thinks he knows who sent it... though of course he doesn't, or he's wrong. I never ever say a word.

He graduates, the crush passes, life moves on. I don't even know that I remember these things.

Until today. When, at the beginning of the Tiger's game, the announcer mentions that brothers Tim and Bill Welke are umpiring. Wait... Bill Welke? The boy?

Yup. He and his eldest brother are both MLB umpires and they're working on the same crew this year. The home series against Tampa Bay was the first that they've worked together in Michigan.

What a funny, random life. And where the hell has 20 years gone?