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Today we celebrate the birthdays of Parker Posey, Margaret Mitchell, Bonnie Raitt, Masashi Kishimoto and Cedro Yoann Greist Salazar! We made him pancakes this morning, and he tasted his first sugary treat in the form of real Wisconsin maple sugar!
Here are some commemorative photos to mark the occasion:
card and presents from grandma!
The party was crazier than a straw, and Cedro was passed out by 9:30 (AM)
Happy Birthday, kiddo!
This is by no means a mastered behavior. I'm pretty sure we're still looking at months (at least) of diaper washing, but it is a good start. Cedro is predictable in that he usually wakes up ready for a good solid release. We've begun putting him on the "shitty kitty" as my wife likes to call it every morning and thus far we've had excellent results! This could be the start of a very positive movement!
Almost every Saturday night for the last four years, I’ve found my legs unwilling to move due to soreness. I’d soak them in a hot bath if there were a bathtub. I’d go get a massage if I weren’t the therapist myself. But the fault for this calculated exhaustion lies squarely on my shoulders as I continue to participate in the weekly pick-up ultimate Frisbee game at the Monteverde Friends’ school. Rain or shine, the game always starts up around mid day and lasts anywhere from one to three hours, depending on how masochistic the group feels. The group itself has changed immensely through the years, growing from a few hardcore adults wallowing in the rainy season mud, to an age/skill diversified group of players who add a dimension of carefree enthusiasm to the naturally competitive sport.
There are those who feel that children should either not be allowed to enter the game, or at least should be encouraged to form their own teams, but I have seen the kids (those that don’t just stand in the end zone hoping to cherry pick a moment of glory, at any rate) keep up step for step with the adults and even teach us a thing or two about sport and sportsmanship. Everyone is encouraged, and everyone is congratulated after a point.
We follow few rules, we lose track of the time and the score (except when trying to set an endpoint for the game) and we revel in the frequent “highlight reel” moments when someone lays out for a catch, or appears out of nowhere to snag a disc from it’s apparently errant descent. I love the way play ebbs and flows depending on who’s catching and who’s throwing. I love the way we all collapse at one end of the field at game’s end to talk and relive the day’s high moments. There are times when the game is the only chance I get to hang out and be with good people outside the family, and it is an integral part of the repeating cycle that is a Monteverde week. So, bring out the Icy Hot and rainy evening movies, because after this normal Saturday, my legs will stand for nothing else…
Writing sixth grade progress reports is tedious. No news there. Four times each year, I whip up a large batch of hummus, buy crackers and other dippables and sequester myself for a whole Sunday with the laptop, student work samples, attendence reports and my Spanish-English dictionary (Sandra) to write. What really happens behind the closed bedroom door? Not what you might think! Instead, I suddenly remember all the side writing projects I've been wanting to do for months and the windows fly open. I have nine currently open on the desktop. Except for this one, they are all Word, and only one is related to the upcoming parent teacher conferences.
People are obsessed with "top 10" lists. They're fun and entertaining. They provide fodder for water cooler conversation. They are never universal, and can be fiercely debated by opinionated people of all ages and walks of life. New Document 7 on the desktop wound up being a list with justifications of the 11 (take that, top 10!) albums that have most influenced me through the years. I wrote this somewhere between m and R in the alphabetical list of students. These are not necessarily my favorite collections of songs, to the exclusion of other masterpieces by Ani Di Franco, Pink Floyd and the rest, and I would never be so brash as to declare them "the best discs ever" or anything like that. They simply are the pieces that have spoken most directly to me as I've grown and changed, that have informed my own views, personality, songs and musical aspirations.
Below is the list for your reading enjoyment. Take that, charla reports!
Moody Blues – Every Good Boy Deserves Favour
An essential and oft overlooked album, this is a perennial favorite. I danced and danced to this album with my brother, mother and father in the earliest days. The music gave me my first glimpses of mysticism, and the song “The Story in your eyes” was the first poem I ever really connected to.
Stevie Wonder – Songs in the Key of Life
Interestingly, the song “Black Man” was my favorite song to dance to when I was three years old. This album has inspired so many others, and has helped me through some of the best and worst times of my life. Stevie provided the soundtrack to my formative years, and “I Wish” is still one of my favorite all time songs.
Michael Franti and Spearhead – Everyone Deserves Music
The marriage of protest, unity, hope and song is as old as human society, and no one does it better in this day and age than Michael Franti. Yellfire is a close second, as “On and On” is a gorgeous tune, but this disc has made me feel so close to those who forego personal wealth in favor of the struggle for justice and peace. “Power to the peaceful” resonates in my soul and creates a chord that defies the miles between us.
Zap mama – Seven
One spring we set out, thoroughly unprepared, and drove straight through to New Orleans for Jazz Fest. It rained buckets, and almost no one braved the drenching to see Zap Mama on the world stage. Their mics shorted out during the first song, but it was still one of the most powerful, amazing shows I’ve ever seen. Such energy, such harmony, truly music of the heart.
Ozomatli – Ozomatli
Back in 1998, I went to see the Cherry Poppin’ Daddies in concert in Phoenix. Their show was terrible, but the two opening bands, whom I’d never heard before that night, have since become two of my favorites: Los Fabulosos Cadillacs and Ozomatli. While the Ozo guys have produced many of my favorite discs, this first effort with Cut Chemist and Chali 2na is a sheer masterpiece of hybrid musicality, lyricism, social justice and heart.
Metallica – Master of Puppets
So many angstful summers trying desperately to figure out who I was spent walking the beach in Southern Maine with a boom box and this disc. It never got old. It channeled anger and sadness like no school rampage ever could. I never understood the lyrics, but it was so empowering to shout out “Fuck it all and fuckin’ no regrets” in public. Now that I come back to it, the title song is still one of the most powerful sets of lyrics I’ve ever encountered.
Wynton Marsallis – Blood on the Fields
This three disc jazz opera took me out of time and out of body the first time I heard it. It’s not just that the main character is named Jesse, it’s not just that the truths within the love story transcend the exploration of humanity’s waltz with power and glory – it’s that intricate, technically spellbinding ragtime jazz has been able to bring so many to tears centuries after slavery, and centuries before we forget the divisions of race and class.
Indigo Girls – Self Titled
This is not even the Indigo Girls’ best work, but the songs on this album have unified so many of my generation around campfires, in coffee houses, and is one of the few albums (along with the Beastie Boys’ License to Ill, interestingly enough) that can stop conversation at parties in favor of singing)
The Roots – Things Fall Apart
Game Theory is my favorite disc by Tariq and crew, but this work stays in the mind and gut, churning and soothing in equally dominant waves. The story is alive and subtle. Each song flows into the next, making it impossible to listen to the disc in pieces, though it is itself a collection of shards that collectively provide a window into the soul of this gifted group, blessed with a flow like no other.
Outback – Dance the Devil Away
This album, the only by this particular combination of French, Senegalese and Australian musicians speaks volumes about rhythm, harmony and spirit without singing a word. I would have never imagined that the mix of guitar, djembe, didgeridoo and fiddle could be so emotive and perfect.
Manu Chao – Proxima Estacion, Esperanza
Manu Chao’s musically minimalistic, but potent sensibilities have the power to erase borders and culture lines like no other. It is world music in the true sense of the genre. French, Spanish, Arabic, English and Portuguese mix easily to a backdrop of reggae, ska and pop, inciting unity and bringing people together as few other musicians since Bob Marley have been able to.
Seated easily up on the wall,
or folded in lotus on the wing
The kalachakra buddha wears a mask of bone
though the moth knows nothing of this
the host at peace, the monk at peace
the beholden eye, a picture of peace
It is late and we're exhausted. I am awakened by thirst and head to the kitchen for a glass of water. When I turn on the light, I am met by a pleasant surprise.
Oddly enough, one of the hardest things to come by here on the mountain is any kind of material one woulduse to make window screens. Therefore, given the need to air out the house every now and then, we get a wide variety of visitors, from the occasional hummingbird or bat, to a grand menagerie of moths.
The birds and bats rarely afford one a chance snap a photo, as the priority is their speedy liberation, but
the moths are less photo shy...
Remember your first taste of ice cream? The first time you discovered that tropical fruit doesn't always come from a can and can taste of something other than heavy syrup? The discovery of a new taste or a new food can be a life changing experience, especially if one is a chef like my wife, Sandra. She has spent her whole life in Costa Rica, preparing fresh tropical delicacies, from plantain encrusted black bean empanadas, to stuffed enyucados, to seasoned smoked, sun dried tomato torts. However, for the first time in her life, in a little carribbean hotel near tortuguero national park, she discovered the miracle of breadfruit.
A worker in the hotel was carrying one back to his quarters and I pointed it out, saying that I'd tried it once a couple of years back, and her eyes widened a degree, curiosity taking a firm hold which would ultimately surpass even her desire to see the giant pacific green turtles in maternal bliss. We found one of the incredible fruits and took it to the kitchen, pan frying it lightly, and have not looked back since. Needless to say, we brought a couple of them back to Monteverde, and our house has turned into breadfruit central. If you ever have the chance, try it! It is lighter than potato, has a distinct texture and flavor that is indeed reminiscent of fresh baked bread. Yum!
Sometimes one just wants to hole up for a while with the family and just chill. There is no plan, no pressure, no "gotta go do ---". The rest of the world just sort of falls away. That is so where we're at these days. The ministry of education sensed this and thankfully delayed the start of our school year by two weeks so that we could get more time to smile
... to walk in the jungle
and enjoy a monkey-eye view on suspension bridges.
and just celebrate life!
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