Joey and the Super Sharpened, Little Nub of a Pencil

The May issue of Esquire has a fantastic article about Joe Montgomery, a friend of mine from grade school who died in Iraq last year. Joey (how I'll always think of him) died by stepping on a land mine at night. This article tracks the whole process of how a soldier is brought back from overseas to be buried at home.

Before I heard that Joey died, I hadn't thought about him in years. We'd been in school together for many of the twelve years of our time in the Scott County School District 2, but we weren't close friends. The grade school Joey is what I remember best. My favorite memory of him was a time in second grade. The teacher stepped out of the room leaving us with instructions, though I have no idea what we should have been doing. Joey was cutting up, as he usually did when the teacher wasn't around. He kept getting up to go to the pencil sharpener. Over and over again. His pencil was apparently refusing to reach the desired level of sharpness to complete whatever mimeographed (yes, I am that old) worksheet we had to do. After several times with his pencil about half its original length, Joey gave up and plunked his head down--right on top of his pencil tip. It might not have been sharp enough for his paper, but it was definitely sharp enough to make a mark on his forehead, one that stayed there for a long time--I think I still saw it in high school. A graphite dot in the middle of field of orange freckles.

It's funny how so many people mark indelible marks on us without us knowing. We are so busy living our lives, trying to make it whatever our next thing is--college, a better job, more money or just the next day--that we don't realize how people can affect us. I'm not talking about the main people in our lives, though they're important too, but the people we interact with, but never know their name. Say for example the bank teller who is alway smiling or the guy at the gym that you've seen so often but only know as "Abnormally Giant Pec Man". Some of these people are leaving impressions on you and may also being taking impressions of you at the same time.

I wonder if there are people whom I don't know or haven't spoken to in years who carry a happy little memory about me. Perhaps some long time from now, they will hear of my passing and the memory of me will bubble up and make them smile a little. It's a small thing.

Goodbye Joey. You will be missed more than you knew.

Quick quiz

What is this a picture of?

a) A pacifier
b) A soother
c) Something that breeders use to keep their brat quiet in public.
d) An essential part of the day, on a level with oxygen. If you read Maslow's hierarchy of needs closely, it's right up there near the top.

If you answered "d", you know what I'm talking about. This is an extremely important baby essential. We try to own no less than 6. Honestly. A half a dozen cozied up in the passy pocket or else it's a trip down to the ol' Target store. For some reason, it's the only store which stocks Baby M's passy of choice.
For some reason, this child has lost more of these boogers than either of the older two--individually or collectively. An average lose of about two a week. We are hemorrhaging pacifiers. Much like Hansel and Gretel, we could probably find our way back home by following the wake of lost pacifiers scattered about the streets. On our next Target trip, (which might be in about 2 hours) we'll have to scout out a biodegradable model--or better tape.

Haiku

I found a grey hair.
On my head. Five inches long
Where did you come from?

On the Roles Again

A few ago, some friends were talking about a coworker we had lost track of. "Laura" had been someone very proud of her role as youngest, even though her claim to that role was rather shaky. She often fished for comments on her remarkable young age (18 months younger than me at the time.) She had created a role for herself as "youngest" and we wondered how she was doing at her new job--wherever that might be--now that she probably wouldn't be able to claim youngest anymore.

Sometimes a role that you create for yourself can be hard to let go, especially if it is a role integral with your self identity. I think about the old cliche about the jock who peaks in high school because after that no one recognizes his athletic greatness or beautiful women who in their struggle with aging try drastic measure to combat nature's drooping, greying march.

My struggle is with the loss of my role and almost my identity. From a long time ago, I was the one who knew a lot. My grades, though not perfect, were impressive. My high school classmates knew me as the nerd; the one who always had a book in her hand. I liked the term, because it does carry a bit of respect towards your intelligence. In college, I had a similar reputation, but as it was a bigger pool, there were more students with higher gpa scores, so I wasn't the smartest person around.

The hardest knock to my ego was when I chose to stay at home with the kids. Yes, my kids believe I am the smartest person in the known universe, which is flattering, but I miss having people respect me for my intelligence. Something that doesn't generally happen in the course of being a mother. There is a great deal of politics, psychology, negotiations, and a hundred other tasks that some brilliant mind gets paid oodles to do as a career, but being a mother does not take formal education. It takes heart and experience and dedication. Some days you are on top of the game and then the next day the game will change.

Now that I have more experience, I have found ways to satisfy my need to be the smart one. My advice for anyone contemplating leaving a job to raise your kids is to think beyond money and time; think about your psychological needs

Busy Month

Whew! It has been a busy month. With preschool wrapping up, training for the mini marathon, and naps schedules no longer being coordinated, I have been unable to post. I have not forgotten my blog and have been stockpiling ideas, though I have not been able to actually write anything. Today will break this long silence. With a big hello!