Big doings in the neighborhood

I thought of Mister Rogers tonight: “It’s a lovely day in the neighborhood.” I am fortunate to live in a close-knit neighborhood with a lot of community pride. In fact, I I live across from the community elementary school. And tonight that provided one of those special neighborhood moments, though I only heard it distantly.

At Lily B. Clayton Elementary, known locally as “Sweet Lily B.,” there’s a tradition of “clapping out” the graduating fifth graders. The students parade down a long hall as families, friends, and faculty line the hall and rhythmically clap. It’s a moment to bring tears to your eyes—I know because I was there for the clapping out of Jacob and also, earlier, of my Canadian daughter Sue’s son, Hunter.

This year there would be no clapping-out ceremony due to social distancing, quarantining, whatever you call it. But school administrators arranged for a clap-out on the street in front of the building tonight. We were in the back yard with socially distanced happy hour guests, but we heard and enjoyed the hoopla. Police cars and fire department vehicles led the parade with horns and sirens blaring someone played "Pomp and Cirumstance" on a car radio, and kids hung out of cars, waving at the people on the street. A perfect show of neighborhood joy for these young kids who have accomplished so much and yet not been able to celebrate as they expected.. Jordan snuck out to the front porch and took the picture above.

We had a company happy hour  with two couples who are longtime friends of mine. Jordan worried and worked a lot to arrange it so seven people could sit with appropriate distancing. In spite of rain threats during the day, it was a lovely evening, perfect temperature, and the garden looked pretty. Everyone brought their own drinks, glasses, snacks, and even napkins. I wonder if this is the entertaining of the future. Guess it is, at least for the foreseeable future. But we were certainly glad to see these friends, and there was much lively discussion, even if it did seem to focus on true crime stories such as the Cullen Davis mansion murders. Not sure how we got on such a topic.

I had prepped dinner tonight, knowing we wouldn’t have a lot of cooking time. Jordan went to Central Market this morning, intending to go inside first thing when it opened instead of using curbside pick-up as we usually do. Seemed to me a perfect time for us to have a seafood supper, so she came home with a pound of bay scallops, plus shrimp for Jacob—he adores shrimp but we all doubted he would try scallops.

Note my fancy new fish spatula

I made scallops Provenҫal—tossed the scallops with salt, pepper, and flour and sautéed them in butter; added chopped shallots, garlic, and parsley to the skillet and cooked a bit longer. Then added white wine and cooked gently until the sauce just thickened a bit. Christian, who apparently wasn’t sure he liked scallops, said he wanted his well done. I explained that well done scallops were rubbery, and besides, they would all be done in one skillet—they were after all, the small bay scallops, and it wasn’t like putting steaks on the grill and assigning each to a person. Apparently, I got it right, because he said he now realized he likes them. Such fun enlarging his taste—he joked that I had made a salmon eater out of him, and now a scallop eater   Hmm, maybe I'll go for mushrooms next.

Another pleasant evening. We all agreed that the days go by quickly, even without scheduled things to do, without lunches and dinners out, without haircuts and doctor appointments and shopping trips and travel. It’s strange to be so comfortable in such difficult times, although at least for me personal comfort doesn’t keep me from worrying about the state of the country. I pray for our nation daily, because I think we are in perilous times.

The Best Kind of Day

Had half my family together today to celebrate Maddie’s graduation from Wakeland High School. We began the day with a sumptuous brunch at a Frisco spot that specializes in local and organic food. Eggs Florentine turned out not to be quite what I expected—baby spinach, but somehow I expected it to be cooked, and I really must learn that unless I ask my eggs will be harder than I like. The day was saved by a large side order of the best fried potatoes I’ve had in forever. Another surprise: I asked for green tea, and it came iced!

Graduation took up most of the day. We left the house at one and returned at seven, all tired out except for the sweet girl graduate who has gone on to parties. It’s no small feat to graduate 600 or so seniors, and Wakeland did a good job of it. They marched in, an endless procession, to “Pomp and Circumstance” which right away had me reaching for a Kleenex. Speeches were admirably short, and it was on to the business of presenting diplomas. There was no lagging in line, and it moved as fast as could be expected. Maddie was something like fourteenth, and after that I read on my iPhone. I’m sure her parents watched for all the kids they know, but I knew not a soul. The family sat up a level from the ground floor but thanks to Colin for keeping me company in the handicapped section.

Family

The waitress snuck in. Do you know which one she is?

Afterwards there was the expected confusion of people milling around trying to find “their” graduate. We had taken my transport chair, which I almost never use anymore, because we figured there’d be a lot of standing around—and there was. I was constantly afraid that someone would back up into me and land in my lap. It didn’t happen. We did find Maddie and did some picture taking.

We started the day with food and ended it that way. An early supper at Babe’s, where I ate myself silly and I imagine the others did too. I kept thinking I don’t often get an opportunity to indulge that freely in bad-for-you but oh-so-good down-home cooking.

With her did and sister

It’s evening, Maddie has gone partying, and the rest of us are lazy and tired. The house is quieting down after a thoroughly good day.

And a note of pride: most graduates wore collars and ribbons of varying colors, each with some significance. I never did get an explanation of Maddie’s, but she graduated cum laude with special recognition for her achievements in sign language for the hearing impaired and a couple of other things, indicated by ribbons. She also had a heavy medal around her neck, but I never did hear what it’s for.

Her parents don’t face an empty nest though. Mel and Jamie will start high school all over again when fourteen-year-old Eden enters ninth grade. And, as daughter-in-law Lisa said to me today, “One grandchild down, six to go.”

Graduation day

         

   Graduation weekend for some of my grands. Jacob graduated this morning from 5^th grade at Lily B. Clayton Elementary, Eden from Cobb Middle School 8^th grade in Frisco (is she excited about high school? Just a bit!), and Madison graduates from high school in Frisco tomorrow. I’ll be there for that one.

I was sorry to miss ceremonies for Eden and Jacob, Edie because of distance, Jacob because of my mobility problems. Jordan had planned to get me to the school, but I knew it would be horrifically crowded, couldn’t decide which would be best—walker of transport chair, and didn’t want her to have to be worrying about me when she should be rejoicing in her child’s accomplishments. So I sat home, envisioned him walking down the hall, and as I told him last night, sent him telepathic messages.

The end of Jacob’s elementary school experience is particularly nostalgic for me. For five of his six years at the school across the street, I was his “school person.” I gave him a hug when his parents brought him to school in the morning (okay, he outgrew that and didn’t want me to hug him publicly), picked him up from school, and labored through homework with him. I remember third grade as particularly tough. He acknowledged last night that we were a duo for much of his schooling, and I thought we would both cry.

Probably first or second grade

a morning hug

Jacob tells me at some schools fifth graders’ last day is an ordinary day, spent in the classroom without much education, maybe playing on their iPads, but at the end of the day someone wishes them well, and that’s it. Not at Sweet Lily B. Family, faculty, and students “clap” them out, lining the halls and rhythmically clapping as the graduates walk by. It’s a tear jerker, and when we thought I’d go, I was prepared to take an entire box of Kleenex. I get teary just writing about it. I went with friend Sue several years ago when her son Hunter graduated.

lots of sentimental tears at graduation

Then, according to Jacob, there was a ceremony that includes several musical selections and probably a short talk—he was a little vague on those details. “Clap out” is the big deal.

When I was in school long ago and in another place, we went to one school K-8 and then had an 8^th grade ceremony. I remember marching to the auditorium, with its battered wooden seats, to the strains of “Pomp and Circumstance.” At Kenwood Elementary, we had our own lyrics: “Goodbye to you, Kenwood/We will remember you/For you’ve led us onward/To the halls of Fame.” For my mom and me, “Pomp and Circumstance” was forever marred; we couldn’t hear it with the Kenwood lyrics going through our minds.

So to all graduates this weekend, I wish you pomp and circumstance. And, Jacob, I love you a lot, and you should know my summer project is to teach you to read cursive.