Setting aside the great tragedy of a beautiful walk to no strawberry ice cream, she and Nicky did in fact enjoy their annual trip to the Giglio and its raft of humanity.
dad
Apropos of just about everything, I would like to rewind the clock by two weeks and have Kina setting up her fort in Alameda again. Simpler, calmer times. Go for a walk on the dunes today, if you can.
Goodbyes are easier than they used to be, but it’s not that easy. Kina has learned enough about this to be ready with a hug and a cautious smile. It has been a good trip, with lots of good family time. Nothing to be sad about. But it’s sad, even so, sometimes.
“It is happening,” Laura has taken to saying as we ramble slowly through the easygoing lanes of San Francisco and the greater Bay Area. By “happening”, she means that we are becoming enamored of the luxurious politesse and elevated bakery standards of this place. The organic produce is more organic than organic. The cars drive themselves, slowly. Nobody honks. Kina, too “is happening”, claiming that the ever-present and cooling fog of the Outer Sunset is preferable to the beating sun and frenetic energy of New York.
I have joked to Laurea that every trip we make to the Bay Area has three acts:
This may be my favorite game of hers yet. Turns out, the thing most likely to make me laugh is Kina laughing at herself, which means that I mostly end up waiting for Kina to crack herself up, which seems like a win-win scenario for all involved.
The deer usually come before Kina wakes up, but she needed to go to them today, instead, and found them grazing by the boulders outside the gate. It was magical, for her and me both.
In many ways, this entire trip is about Kina seeing her friend Bonnie the deer. She has been talking about Bonnie for weeks. The very first thing she did on the mountain after our drive from Alameda was call out to her friends until she came, young fawns in tow. Kina had apples, as promised, from the last time they met, and she will have apples again next year.
I have gotten to the place with this project where I no longer feel compelled to bring five sheets of white construction paper in my suitcase for the Sunday Kina when I travel. This is much better.
As an adult, it is easy to forget the eternity of summer vacation that we’re experienced (if we were so fortunate) when we were children. For me, the weekend is not forever, but the second best thing is working from California while your kid has the forever weekend.
Catching up a bit here again, but the couple of intervening days since we published this issue have seen a steady increase in our very teenage child asking for very extra snuggles, so this is a trend worth noting.
When we asked Kina how she decided that she liked making rubber-band chokers, she said that she had seen “high schoolers” wearing them “and also flare pants”.
Our esteemed publisher looks ahead of the curve for fashion trends.
The advantage that people born in the city of New York have in the debate about “real New Yorkers” is really unfair, says local dad who has lived in New York for nearly 30 years and was unfortunately not born here.
As a child growing up as part of a military family, I left my school and friends behind every three years or so, setting up shop each time in some new state or country to make an entirely new set of friends. It rarely bothered me much (though the move after fourth grade was incredibly difficult for me), and I learned quickly that homes were temporary and new friends plentiful. I sometimes wonder if that’s shaped my approach to friendships over the years—for better and for worse—to make me more adaptive, in some ways, to loss.
I can remember the people I’ve left behind over the years: the kid with the thick glasses in kindergarten in Rome, NY; Gina, the girl next door when I was in first grade there; Bunty, Teddy, Mike, and Greg from Newark, OH; Wellington Chang(!) and Yusuke from Fairfax, VA; the various Mikes and Jerries from Oklahoma (and a girl whose name I have forgotten who confessed her love for me the day I left, to my dismay); a number of folks from my high school (many of whom were transient themselves); and my many friends (and groups of friends) from college. Their faces are clear to me, even if my youngest friendships feel more abstract than my teenaged ones.
If I were to write a Moving Book, the person moving would be me, over and over again. I’d list the schools and parks and teams and teachers I left behind as I went. I never thought to write it all down; it’s just in my head, my field of view changing gradually, with a few kids holding space in the shadows each time.
Another catchup edition?!?! Indeed, because I have been in London speaking at a conference and being weirdly jetlagged. In any case, Mommy did a great job as interim editor and paid a lot of attention to Kina’s hair in the masthead.
Lisa Visits to Read Letters to Kina in Utero From CA & NY Baby Showers in 2016 for HS Graduation Speech Inspo for Her
At Laurea’s baby shower, we invited our guests to fill out these letters to Kina for when she was 10, 18, and 30. We hadn’t pulled them out for seven and a half years, until our friend Lisa suddenly needed to give a graduation speech at the high school she teaches in. No spoilers, but the letters were great.
As Bart Simpson once said, I’m a little behind on my rounds. It’s been an eventful weekend, what can I say?
“Daddy, What If Your Name Was ‘Déja Boo’?”
I was going to say “drag name”, but that felt a little too appropriative. She has on multiple occasions this weekend called me “Déja Boo Yee”, which really rings nicely.
Everybody’s staying anonymous here, but I am proud of Kina and her tough girl classmates for standing up for a boy in her class who got the short end of the bully stick. As angry as it makes me to hear about these things, I have to remind myself that these kids are seven and eight years old, and that their behaviors are just an extension of their own experiences—much like the behaviors and neuroses of their adults. It’s hard to explain that all to Kina, but it’s a lot easier when you know she’s confident enough to protect the people who need protecting. She can spend the rest of her life becoming familiar with the virality of trauma, but she’s kind today.
“Mr. Ortiz says we’ve learned all the units,” said Kina recently, “and that the rest of the school year is just for fun!” This, completely failing to acknowledge that the entirety of the 2023-24 school year has been fun for Kina and her classmates—and not lacking for educational rigor, though I think I have never known a class to embark on quite as many field trips as this one did, and will, for the remainder of this very long and very fun school year.
Whenever Laurea and I have a little getaway for the two of us, we are supposed to bring Kina back little gifts. Clothes, toys, candy, whatever. This time, we snuck into the walled garden of our hotel and snipped off one of the hundreds of blooming peonies, which we thought Kina would appreciate, given her propensity for stealing flowers.
Reader, she did not appreciate it. Flowers are too boring.
It’s hard to understand sometimes that seven is “big”, but it is good from time to time to be reminded—especially when parents are out of town and the grandparents kick in.
Kina has not allowed us to smooch in her presence for several months, and we are suspicious of her motives for allowing it now, but we are taking advantage of the opportunity and are grateful to our leader.