Doing the Puff & Strut

Yesterday many came together to celebrate a wonderful public art project at the South Norwalk Train Station.  Duvian Montoya, a graduate of Norwalk Public Schools, expressed how meaningful it was to him to have such a prominent installation in his hometown. As is so often the case, public officials did the puff and strut, recognizing themselves and taking credit for a job well done. Those in the know perhaps smiled along with me, remembering the work of mostly unrecognized champions who got the project moving in 2010, back when it was mired in government bureaucracy. But at the end of the day it's all about the talented artists and members of the public who get to enjoy their work.

Paying it forward in Greenwich

I've sometimes had a love-hate relationship with Greenwich.  This year's award ceremony at Hamilton Ave. School was definitely a time to feel the love. Graduating seniors who attended Hamilton Ave. return to be recognized and to speak with 5th graders.  Vito Sperduto, a successful businessman and Harvard graduate, returns every year to pay it forward. He told the students how he arrived at Hamilton Ave. from Italy in the 1970's not speaking much English.  This year he gave a scholarship to Nicole LaPointe-Jameson who will attend Columbia University.  I met Nicole and her proud parents, Noel and Lise, when I served as interim principal at Hamilton Ave. in 2005.

Fathers Day 2012

Dad shows me how to drive Ivy's  tractor.
Stanwood, Washington 1959

Today is our nephew Aaron's first Fathers Day.  We began at the Unitarian Church in Westport where family and friends welcomed our great niece Ellery (Queen of Babies) into the spiritual community.  For the second time this year I crossed paths with Ken, an octogenarian former colleague of our late father.  I remembered something my daughter told me about consequential strangers and realized it was more than chance that brought Ken and me together today.  The church is around the corner from a lovely mill pond where our Dad stayed at the company guest house before the rest of us made the move from Seattle to Connecticut in the 1950's.  It has been a remarkable day with new and old memories thanks to Ken and Ellery.

Strawberry Picking

Sunday was perfect for our annual visit to Jones Farm to pick strawberries. I've been going there for more than 20 years. This year three Fab kids, Grandma (that's me) and our friend, Jackie, picked two full flats  from our assigned rows in less than an hour!  Pretty good considering Jackie was a first-timer and Charlie is only three.  The first year Sam picked berries he found one that looked like Mickey Mouse.  Now it's a contest to find the most unusual looking berry.  Sam won again.

The real work begins after driving home in a car filled with a luscious aroma that smells nothing like those artificial air fresheners. Ripe berries need immediate attention.  After dividing our spoils I ended up with two quarts of frozen berries (tartes, trifles, smoothies, lemonade, delicious in a glass of prosecco), a quart of strawberry rhubarb sauce (skip the food coloring, yummy on ice cream, yogurt, puddings) and shortcake for dinner.  One of the best parts is reconnecting with the childhood memory of picking berries with Grandma Dora and Grandpa Carl in Stanwood, Washington.