feliz dia del padre

I originally wrote this essay with the intention of submitting it Fremont News Messenger for publication today. Unfortunately, I’m an airhead (blame it on the blonde) and missed the deadline while I was gallivanting around the rice paddies. The good news is, I’m no longer limited to 250 words. Especially now, given the recent passing of my dad’s father, I just want him to know how much I love him and miss him. I’m not sure they know this, but there are a lot of times—even here, so far away—when I just can’t believe how I got so damn lucky to have the parents I do. I don’t know where I’d be without them. So here goes:

Lying under the summer sky, my sister and I shrieked with laughter, shattering the silence of the bay. “No way, Dad!” We’d yelp as we secretly clung to each other under our sleeping bags.

From the boat’s cuddy our father grinned, satisfied with his ghastly tale about the Headless Horseman haunting the Portage River drawbridge. His stories always included a rich history of the area: battles on the lake, noble Native Americans, valiant settlers. We didn’t realize it then, but our dad has always shared life’s lessons in a magical way.

As children, he taught us through his love for Lake Erie, as he revealed the beauty of the waves, the triumph of a fat perch on the line, and the importance of respecting nature and people alike. When we got older, his lessons moved to our driveway basketball court, where the sky darkened and dinner cooled as I practiced endless free throws. He taught me patience, persistence, and unconditional love as he waited out my poor shooting skills and surly teenage attitude. In college, he’d write letters. Homesick or heartbroken, I’d find a note in my mailbox, reminding me that, “this too shall pass.” Now, as I navigate the nebulous world of adulthood, he reminds me of one simple rule by which to live: help people. Be kind. Focus on family.

Today, half a world away on Father’s day, I smile and remember those summer days long-ago, knowing how just lucky I am to have such a wonderful father—and friend.

"all good things are wild and free"

It's been awhile since I posted anything about grad school, or anything at all, for that matter, as I've been so immersed in soaking up my vacation. It's been a real joy to stop for a few weeks, probably for the first time since high school, and just enjoy being in the moment. I've spent the last few weeks at my parent's place on Lake Erie, kayaking in the grottoes and lagoons around Catawba and Green Island. My  dad's been teaching a little bit about bird watching, which has been enlightening on a few levels. Usually I'm so caught up in the rush of life that it's painful for me to sit still with my own thoughts for more than a minute or two, but being on the lake relieves that pressure somehow. Suddenly, the details spring to life- the purple wildflowers blooming from the bluff, the deep green moss, optimistic lily pads, the mysterious and enticing caves. It's so clean and simple and refreshing.

And how have I gone my whole life neglecting the beauty and wildness of the birds? The eagles gliding fierce and regal, arrogant in their royalty. The herons elegant and with admirable patience; the coomerans swift and clever as they dive for fish. My favorite, I think, are the kildeer, amusing entertainers who drag their wings and play injured in a show to lure predators away from their nests. Sitting low and silent in the water, paddling whirlwinds through the warm green water, I feel part of nature in a way that, for all the hustle and bustle I love, I never quite manage in a city.

I'm growing increasingly excited as my move approaches, and I crave the chaos of student life-  it's part of what drew me to grad school. In fact, it's been a challenge to suppress my anxiety and guilt about not using  my time more "effectively," to travel to some exotic locale, or do some internship or other career-enhancing activity we all scramble to do so much of the time. I'd be lying if I said I don't thrive on that...most of the time.

 For the time being, however, it's been sheer bliss to spend my days idly reading, hiking and kayaking, and finding a kind of peace I didn't know existed. The storm will begin soon enough.

take me down to paradise city

Also known as Port Clinton, Ohio. Skeptical?

View from my parent's lakeside condo:



Ok, I'll fess up. I didn't take this photo, but it is Lake Erie, the most beautiful place on earth (through my rose-colored lenses, anyway) and the place where I am gladdest (is that a word? dunno but it's how I feel).

I am heading home tomorrow to spend my holiday weekend there. It's my last weekend with my baby sis before she moves to Seattle to law school, so we better make it good!