Graduation time

Summer's here. The official unofficial start, Memorial Day weekend, is already past us. In an unusual turn, the local rec center scheduled teeball games for the Saturday of the holiday weekend (something that hadn't happened the last three years), and almost the entire Green Monsters team showed up. So that was good, and we had a lot of fun. Two games left, this morning and next weekend.

Carson is now four, and we decided to withdraw him from his Montessori school for the summer. He's very autonomous, and with Amalie also having the summer off, it's simply easier, he's not going to miss all that much, and we think we'll work in some travel. And it's a nice cost savings. We do plan on having him return in September.

Amalie is but days away from her summer -- classes end June 3rd -- and we know she has passed (brilliantly) and will shuffle along to second grade. Her teacher, Mrs. Parks, is being reassigned to second grade next year, and the students are allowed to request tagging along with her, a technique called "looping". We all really like Mrs. Parks -- me, Val, certainly Amie -- so we've agreed that she should loop. I've been reading to her class for several weeks now, which started out as one day a week, but then we started a new book with barely a month left, so this past week I've stepped it up (and Mrs. Parks has jumped in some afternoons) and been reading every day. Looks like I'll be done after Monday. Our reading list, in my tenure, has included Coraline by Neil Gaiman and The Amazing Maurice And His Educated Rodents by Terry Pratchett.

So that's the end of the school year for my kids. Not really graduation, though. No, that belongs to another young lady this year.

I moved to Austin in 1990, and in those carefree, bachelor days, would regularly travel up to the Dallas area to take in some Red Sox games when they were playing the Rangers. I was able to sleep at the house of friend from college who lived in McKinney; the drive out to Arlington was a bit long, but as there was nothing else I wanted to do there besides enjoy baseball, it didn't put me off. Hey, free crash space!

Steve and I first met in 1983, as I was sitting in a math class. He rollerskated in; yes, really (he's always been quite good at skating -- I'm dismal -- and still does to this day). We also ran into each other at the campus radio station, WRPI, and simply were a good fit. I was best man at his wedding in 1990, a marriage now in its 19th year.

As often happens to newlyweds, they had a baby about a year later, a daughter. And, about a month after that, the Red Sox were in town, and I drove up, mainly to see some games, but I was also very much looking forward to seeing Steve and Anne's baby girl.

Got to their house around, oh, 9:00 pm or so, well after dark. Rang the bell. Steve opened the door. There, in the crook of his elbow and dozing on his shoulder, was baby Alanna. And Steve's face had the brightest, proudest smile I can recall seeing.

I kinda understood that at the time, and experienced it first-hand when Amalie was born in 2002. It's a dad thing.

Eighteen years later, Alanna is on the verge of graduating high school, still in McKinney. An accomplished young woman -- #14 in her class of over 400, a State-class band member, scholarship winner. (At various times, Steve and Anne actually entrusted Alanna to my care, mostly to take her to baseball games. She doesn't seem particularly to be a fan, however, so my dastardly plan appears foiled. Curses! Ah well, I still have my own progeny to corrupt.)

Warmest congratulations, Alanna. Your family aren't the only ones proud of you.

Now go give 'em heck in college.