Savannah Dances to 'Fame'

I've always liked the movie Fame, in part because Maureen Teefy, a fellow student at The Children's Theatre School in Minneapolis (where my sister and I were students for a time) stars in the film. It was fascinating to have experienced acting classes with Maureen, and then to see the story of high school theater students translated to the big screen. Years later, my daughter and my sister's daughter danced to the music down in our basement playroom. Somehow this collage became another interpretation – though it would be hard to tell from the visual components that there is a connection.

This goes out to the former students of The Children's Theatre School  who have been getting together for reunions, reflecting on the creative legacy of those oh-so-formative years.

Happy Birthday, Sav!

Today was the birthday of our beautiful Bird...seen with her brother and our extra teen travelers this past summer in Holland. (Look at the restored native grasses on the dunes of that beach.)

Sav was born at home 16 years ago, on a humid August night, the heat breaking post-placenta with a thunderstorm and lightning. We passed her from person to person, among three midwives, grandparents, dad, and uncle. Her two-year old brother tried to make sense of it all, playing with a new red fire truck, his trade-off toy for entering the era of life-with-sibling. I'm so grateful for supportive family and friends, those midwives, and the wonderful person Sav has always been, since her own personal odyssey began. You are my sunshine, Sav!

Bird Takes Wing, with Bungie Cords and Parasail

Our wonderful Bird, also known as Savannah, is home from nearly a week in Florida, where she had a chance to parasail (also known as paracending: a beautiful word.) She describes the experience as incredibly peaceful and quiet. Side-by-side with her friend Mary, they flew over the ocean at 800 feet, watching dolphins leap below.

I have always loved the view of the earth from the sky, and have never had a fear of flying, even though I was once in a jet to Boston when one of the engines caught on fire, requiring an emergency landing. The cabin of the plane was utterly silent as we circled to land; even the baby in the seat across the aisle watched her mother without issuing a sound. Beyond my window, looking utterly surreal, the flames were shooting out behind us. But we had our own Captain Sully, someone who brought us down without a hitch. I prayed. I wasn't above it all; I was involved in fervent, silent begging.

On less dramatic flights, I enjoy the quiet camaraderie in the cabin, and the view of the world below – grids, roads, houses, rivers, mountains, and city lights – and the quiet blue calm above the clouds. My favorite memory is of the trip I once made from Newark to Ireland, en route to living there for a year. As luck would have it, I received an upgrade, and was given a first class seat in Aer Lingus, a little bronze plaque on the wall explaining that Pope John Paul II had occupied that chair during his flight to Ireland in 1979. He celebrated mass before 1.5 million people in Phoenix Park; nearly one in three people on the island assembled there that day. (It's one of the largest urban parks in the world, more than twice the size of Central Park in New York City.)

Sitting next to me was an Irish rock musician. We chatted quietly off and on throughout the night flight, a bit of Black Bushmill stoking our talk. I looked out the window with stars in my eyes, anticipating my precious time in the Emerald Isle, and feeling blessed.

But that was then, and this is now: a not-great Pope (that's an understatement) and a daughter taking wing, with bungie cords, a zest for life, and soaring friendships.