Who needs sleep anyway?

 

I

The Walkathon in an earlier year.

t happens once a year. Today was the day. I was awakened at seven o’clock by the sounds of a marching band, complete with drum rolls. The high school marching band was tuning up or whatever they call it directly across the street from our house. We live across from Lily B. Clayton Elementary School, a historic school with an enthusiastic parent support program. The occasion today was the annual Lily B. Walkathon where all students who are able march a mile through the neighborhood, along with teachers, parents and friends. Neighbors sit on their porches or front lawns to wave and encourage the walkers. The parade is led by mounted police officers, the marching band, and often a city official in the requisite convertible. It’s really a terrific neighborhood occasion. And a fundraiser for the school. This year the kids raised $58,000 by getting people to support them in the walk.

But seven o’clock is awfully early, at least for me. I did doze, and then when they marched away, I fell sound asleep until I heard the drums returning at about nine o’clock. As I lay there listening to them, it occurred to me that it was like having an MRI, where you lie there and try to make sense or a pattern out of the sounds the machine is making. Only in this case there was a pattern. Those high school kids are pretty darn good.

To make it worse, four Amber Alerts about five o’clock in the morning brought me straight up in bed and alarmed Sophie who ran around the cottage barking at an enemy she couldn’t see. I’m not savvy enough on my iPhone that I could find out what child is missing, but I pray safety for them. Jacob tells me I missed a national alert last weekend over the Hamas attack on Israel. Perhaps what I missed this morning was a warning about the predicted Day of Rage. We are all grateful it doesn’t seem to have materialized, though when is at this point always leery of complacency.

All this on Friday the thirteenth. I don’t know about you, but I have never been particularly superstitious. In fact, I think it’s kind of silly that tall buildings never label thirteenth floor. No matter what they call it, that fourteenth floor is really number thirteen. But I read an interesting column this morning. Triskaidekaphobia is the name for extreme superstition of fear of the number thirteen. Writer Kait Carson (Scuba diving mysteries, the newest mystery of which is Deep Dive) points out that you never seat thirteen at a dining table (awkward anyway) and the number 13 is the death card in Tarot. She claims some writers refuse to advertise the thirteenth in a mystery series—how would you get around that?

But according to Kait, in eastern cultures the number is considered lucky, and she herself has had some lucky Fridays the thirteenth. Maybe it’s all in the way you look at it. Me? I think I’ll consider it neutral, just like any other day—almost. Then again maybe that marching band was trying to tell me something. How about you? Are you superstitious?

Meantime, I’m just going to try to learn to pronounce Triskaidekaphobia—I can’t even break it down into component parts that make any sense.

 

 

A joyful day

After a couple of woe-filled days, I’ve had a joyful day today. I truly live in a wonderful neighborhood, and one of the things that makes it so wonderful is the neighborhood spirit for Lily B. Clayton Elementary School, right across from my front porch. This morning they had their annual Walkathon—both a fund-raiser for PTO activities and a good exercise to prove that the kids, even little ones, can walk a mile. Christian walked with Jacob, as he has every year. Subie and Phil came from a few blocks away, and we had a watch party—complete with coffee and dogs. Neighbor Margaret Johnson came to get Sophie for a walk, but Sophie was so excited by all the turmoil, I was terrified she’d pull Margaret down. They had a good walk but Margaret confessed her arm was tired when she got back.

The high school band played, police cars blocked the streets, and tons of neighbors turned out to watch. Band players jived (is that the right word?), danced and kicked, and the atmosphere was truly festive. As Phil said, “I never realized so many children went to that school.” They kept coming and kept coming, but it was a joyful, exciting occasion. Each child was to wear a red Lily B. T-shirt. Jacob buried his under a green Baylor sweatshirt because he was cold—that child who’s always too hot. It was a lovely way to start the day. Subie and Phil left after the walkers had gotten underway, but I told them later the return was much less tightly packed, more loosely organized as kids seemed to scatter everywhere. Still, order came out of chaos, and I assume they spent the rest of the day being studious

At noon, my brother John and sister-in-law Cindy came to get me and we went to Carshon’s Deli where we met my niece Jenn and her youngest daughter, Maddie. Talk about a flirty-girty, beautiful charmer! I was absolutely entranced by that three-year-old child. Loved my lunch (half a tongue sandwich) and the company was even better. A real treat. John walked into my house announcing he wanted to see the killer dog—so he and Cindy waited until I got Luke calmed down and then came out on the porch. They did it just right—ignored him, though he got to the point he wanted to jump on them and came around to visit several times. Also sniffed their dogs’ smell on them.

Tonight Jordan is preparing for the garage sale of the century—in my front yard because there’s so much more traffic than in their neighborhood. I cannot begin to tell you what my house looks like except that I pray it will all be gone tomorrow. Cindy walked in and said, “Oh my God!” Christian has gone home so he can be back here at 5:30 a.m. I am hoping to sleep through much of this. Tonight I fixed them hamburger patties in a butter/shallot/red wine/beef broth/cognac sauce—so good but next time I’ll double the sauce. Baked potatoes and salad—great meal, even if the service wasn’t elegant, given the circumstances. A part of me hates to put a sour cream container on the table!

Now, Luke and I are hiding in my office while she prices things. Going to bed very early tonight and hiding all morning tomorrow. Life is good.

Saying goodbye is hard

My longtime friend Barbara and her daughter, Amy, left to return to Mississippi this morning but not before we gave them one last taste of Fort Worth spirit. Today was the annual Lily B. Clayton Walkathon, a fund-raiser for the school, complete with the Paschal High School Marching Band. It made for a colorful and lively spectacle right outside my front door, and I convinced my guests that they would be captive until after it got under way. So we parked ourselves on the front porch, sent Amy to the curb to take pictures, and watched the fun. Kids walking by and the little girl next door were dancing to the beat of the music, and everyone was smiling and happy. Our focus of course was on getting a picture of Jacob--Amy and I were both looking for his dad's plaid shirt, but this was the first year Jacob walked without a parent (Dad had too much to do at work). The result was pictures in which Jacob is barely recognizable, but here's one of him from behind.

Barbara and I mostly sat on the porch, two old ladies watching the children with great delight, though she did venture down one time--with her dog who was so anxious to be part of the fun--to point out to Amy that she'd just missed Jacob.

They left shortly after the parade headed off for the inner neighborhood and got out in plenty of time before I heard to band signifying the parade's return to the school.
It was hard to say goodbye after such a wonderful visit, but they promise to come back soon--maybe in the spring--and Barbara and I are talking about traveling together. I am so lucky to have such a close bond with a friend from high school. We have so much in common--I have four children, she has five, and we both are blessed with fine children who are a close family unit. As the years have passed, our values and our sense of humor seem to have grown in the same direction. I don't know when I had such a good time as these last few days.
I spent the rest of the day piddling at work things at my desk and napping. Not sure why but I was really sleepy. Jacob had a friend stop and play after school and before I knew it, it was time to take him to his mom's office. I came home, had a second nap, and woke up just in time to talk to Jamie who as at the airport ready to fly to Hong Kong. He knows I don't like him to go that far without my saying "Be careful" and all those other things mothers say, and tonight he said he was a bit offended that I hadn't called. Nice visit with him, while he simultaneously dealt with a Railhead BBQ person in the terminal and found to his dismay they didn't have ribs.
Had a good dinner with Kathie--lobster at Lucille's--and home. And sleepy again.