Family field trip!

This past weekend I was able to make one of those impromptu trips home that my parents had been hoping would happen now that I'm within driving distance again. I was just in time for a family trip to the newly remodeled National Museum of American History. Besides Air and Space, this was always my favorite Smithsonian museum. When I was 5, I took home a First Ladies' gowns coloring book. It was a little frustrating since a good 25% of them were something impossible like white, cream, or "bombazine," but I loved it. I made my Mom read me the catalog entries a dozen times.

Here are my opinions of the new, somewhat improved NMAH.
Good Things

• Overall, the building is brighter and easier to navigate. I was surprised, though, at how little had changed in the overall floorplan.
  
• Vastly improved Star Spangled Banner display keeps the flag safe, but still looks cool. The walk-through exhibits about Fort McHenry and the flag's conservation were also good.
• The extensive "America at War" exhibit was patriotic but not jingoistic. There was plenty to see and touch. My brothers spent a good hour there, not surprisingly.
  
• The transportation section was greatly improved. I especially liked how they used turn-of-the-century DC as a case study for emerging interstate markets and transport.
  
• "Within These Walls," a 200 year study of a house in Ipswich, MA. They managed to fit in abolition, Irish immigrants, and the WWII homefront, along with a healthy dose of architecture. I was able to identify Queen Anne and Chippendale chairs in the Colonial section!

Not-s0-good things.

• Lines for the "pop" exhibits. What is this, Disney World? Lots of people want to see the ruby slippers and First Lady dresses. Why are they then in a cramped space with a narrow entrance? I was pleased to learn that the single First Ladies' room is only temporary, though.
  
• Restroom entrances are also preposterously narrow. What would someone do with a stroller if there was a line backed up to the door?
• My brothers reported that the invention section was mostly hand-wringing about the dangers of the nuclear age.
  
• Julia Child's kitchen was fun, albeit a little fluffy. It's indicative of our culture that everyone ended up just staring at the video clips of her show.

Overall, the exhibits tried to suit their "national" role, painting broad pictures of major historical trends. I'll be curious to see what other innovations arrive in coming months.

My favorite moment was walking through the 20th century war section. Each "generation" of my family related to something different. We all chuckled at the kitchy WWII war bond cartoons and posters. Then we arrived at Vietnam, which Dad could of course remember. We gathered around the plastic-wrapped avocado sofa to watch sobering news clips of Saigon. Then on to chunks of the Berlin Wall, which is one of my earliest news footage memories. I did a double take when a teeanger said, "Mom, what's the Berlin Wall?" My middle brother and sister were most fascinated by the twisted hunks of metal from the World Trade Center. Brother #3 didn't linger there; he was still in diapers when terrorists attacked it. What memories will he associate with war?

Woohoo high school!

Here's a glimpse of the parent paparazzi at my little sister's graduation. It's always good to revisit the tightly-knit community of my uber-Catholic/uber-ProLife high school. Every year since my own graduation is a little different and little more weird as I settle into adulthood. Sign that I am getting old: I was verklempt with pride during my sister's valedictorian speech. My mom and I tearfully clutched each other in our church pew. Another sign that high school is long gone? Some of my classmates had also returned - with their spouses and children.



This weekend was also my sister's dance school's annual recital. We saw performances by everyone from un-coordinated 5 year olds to champion teens. Here are some cool shots I got of the team heading to Nationals. Their solo dresses and wigs were out of control.





My little sister is now officially a high school graduate, after doing a great job on her valedictorian speech. Sign that I am getting old: my mom and I both got verklempt with pride during her address. We sat in the church pew tearfully clutching each other's arm.

Hitting the road

I'm going to be on blog hiatus for a few days as I visit my family for my sister's graduation and hunt for grad school housing. In the meantime, enjoy this picture of some fun cars. There was a whole crowd of them around Soulard Market a few Saturdays ago. The drivers were all really friendly and waved at me. How could you not be in a good mood on such a gorgeous spring day?

Happy Mother's Day!

Many thanks and hugs to all mothers today, especially to my own Mom who has been so encouraging during my volunteering adventures. I'm a little sad I can't be with her back home today.

Mother's Day reminds me of all the moms my grant-writing helps, who are often struggling to raise their children. It also makes me think about how working in an office full of women who constantly deal with pregnancies has taught me a lot about the *ahem* more graphic parts of motherhood. When this year is done, I'm going to have to remind myself that childbirth and breast feeding are not normally lunchroom topics of conversation.

Mother's Day is also a time to remember the great example of selfless love we have in Mary, the Blessed Mother. Here are some images of her from my church photography binge this weekend.
First, here's the side altar to Mary at the Old Cathedral of St. Louis the King near the riverfront. The scene in the center depicts Mary's coronation as Queen of Heaven, and the


A side altar to Mary at the Cathedral Basilica on Lindell.


Finally, a statue of St. Anne, mother of Mary and my Mom's Confirmation Saint

No Crib for a Bed

This has been an unusual Christmastime for me in many ways. At first, I was unusually festive from December 1 onward, managing not to let holiday mayhem make me mental. Avoiding malls out of financial necessity helped a lot. So did learning to only half-hear Delilah's holidays songs on KEZK. The biggest factor though, was keeping the focus on other people. The most fun present unwrapping I did in years was in the office, sorting donations from a local church. I knew every gift would be welcome, even if it wasn't exactly glamorous. "A carton of Similac? AND a baby nasal syringe? Oh Santa, how did you know?."

There is old St. Louis Post-Dispatch cartoon on display in the office where Mary encourages the Magi to donate the gold and spices to NFNF. It's a nice reminder that the first Christmas gifts were for an at-risk infant. My own family, once again seperated from my by 700 miles, has been bearing a lot of similarity to that family this past year. Mold removal and renovations have kept us in exile from our home for a year. In our snug rented apartment, my little brothers don't even have beds, just mattresses on the floor. This year has entailed the same rapid packing, wandering, and doing without that Joseph and Mary had to deal with. We're still waiting for final word that it's safe to return from Egypt.
The holidays were extra difficult as even more construction delays pushed back the long-awaited move-in to January. It was indeed strange to celebrate in a foreign living room without our usual ornaments and decorations, which are mostly in storage. (Mark did "save Christmas" by diving amidst boxes to retrieve the stockings.)

Strangest of all for me was coming to terms with my attitude towards presents. For years now I have realized that I am no longer the wide-eyed wondering child my parents would love to see scampering down the stairs with glee on Christmas morning. Recent years saw me take a very utilitarian approach - this is the most money spent on me all year, so I better get something I really want in return, not useless things you think are cute. Better yet, just send money - how about tens and twenties? It took much arguing (not diplomatically on my part) to convince my mom that I would rather have one pair of ballroom dance shoes than a pile of miscellany. To this day I still am not sure if she was put off more by the price tag or by my mercenary spirit.

This year, however, I didn't really need or want anything other than some GF foodstuffs from Whole Paycheck. As long as I got two weeks at home and maybe some new slacks for work, I was happy. So, I took family unwrapping in stride, not stressing over the total utility and opportunity cost of every item. Some I will get good use out of, like said slacks plus three sweaters and a watch. Others, like the plastic bling from brother 3, were given in love but will likely sit around the rest of the year. It's nice to have some new stuff, but I wasn't heartbroken about having to leave the huge skillet and sewing machine case behind.

I started this VSC year hoping to become less attached to "stuff", and Christmas was a good indicator that it's working to some degree. As long as I am fed, clothed, housed, (and have internet and transportation), life is pretty good. It's the people you meet, places you see, and things you learn that matter. In that spirit, I'd like my final Yuletide observation to come from How the Grinch Stole Christmas, which every WM student knows, and loves to hear read by college presidents disguised as St. Nick.

It came without ribbons! It came without tags! It came without packages, boxes, and bags!
Maybe Christmas, perhaps, doesn't come from a store.
Maybe Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

There are turkey-eating festivities in the VSC house today, thanks to two heaping boxes of produce and canned goods one of the girls brought home from work. A couple volunteers' families came in for the occasion, and Sr. Rosalind accepted our dinner invite at the last minute. Jessica called me in a panic this morning for advice on GF/dairy free Thanksgiving cuisine for our favorite nun. Smart girls, she and Kristina had already thought to use my GF baking mix instead of flour to coat the bird's oven bag. I told them to raid my dairy-free margerine in the freezer and to heat up some green beans sans mushroom soup.

I'm a little sad to miss Sr. Ros' first visit to our home, but I happily trade it for quality time with my many relatives in Chicago. The Windy City has always held a sort of Motherland mystique for me, since my parents grew up here and most of their families remain in the area. How appropriate, since Thanksgiving is a holiday to celebrate heritage, no matter how selective or mythical that shared national memory may be. (The first Thanksgiving was technically in Virginia, but whatever. Construction paper Pilgrim hats are still fun.)

Being in Chicago reminds me that I'm part of a larger family tradition. Aunts marvel over how I resemble my father. My cousins observe that I twirl my hair just like them. My Grandmum chats for hours over the kitchen table, and suddenly I realize where my mom got that habit. Tomorrow we're going to make Grandma Cookies, the secret, labor intensive biscotti recipe from a distant Italian matriarch in my dad's family. I was glad that my own Grandma waxed nostalgic about our immigrant forbears over dinner. Little cousin Greg got squirmy, but maybe one day he'll appreciate the rare chance to hear how we got to sit here in a comfy suburb pigging out on sweet potatoes and turkey gravy. Those milk-delivering Italians and garment sewing Russian Jews would be pleased to see that their descendants have college educations and pumpkin pie readily available.