Sitting in Panera
by Rob

So this Wednesday evening, I'm one of four people (that I can see), sitting in the Clifton Park Panera typing on my laptop. I haven't decided if that makes me up-to-date or just pathetic. That probably means that the latter is more appropriate. Half an hour ago I would have told myself that it doesn't matter anyway, since I don't live here, but since then I've run into someone I know from school.

I should be doing homework (which for me is lesson plans), or retreat planning (it's in less than three weeks), but I don't feel like doing either of those things. Besides, I'd have to pull out more books and papers, and that would just seem more ridiculous than just sitting here typing.

I'm here because Nate's at a CDYC rehearsal at Shenendehowa high school. The fall rehearsal schedule was almost entirely consistent, Saturday mornings at SUNY. This spring semester is all over the place, and includes at least 3 rehearsal locations. I don't know if this is typical for the spring, but I intend to find out. If Nate isn't wild about doing this next year, I won't push for it if I have to drive all over the region on odd days. The irregularity of the schedule has created a lot more conflicts, and as it is, tonight Kim and Abbie are at church for a potluck dinner and the Ash Wednesday service. Neither Nate or I were really happy about missing it.

I know that I haven't been blogging enough to account for much of the events and changes that our kids are going through. They both look taller. Abbie's little-girl-ness seems to be vanishing into makeup and a quickly changing wardrobe that looks like that of the teenagers we know. Sometimes I have to remind myself that she's still only 11. Nate just turned 14; his birthday list was Fruity Pebbles, soda, a roll of chocolate chip cookie dough, and Guitar Hero. He looks like he's going shoot up any day now. I fully expect that by this time next year he'll be 4 or 5 inches taller. He argues with us more and is showing other signs of his age -- the movies and TV that interest him, his language, and stuff like that.

And they both eat constantly. I knew this would happen and still it amazes me. A snack when they get home. A full dinner. Then, within an hour or two, it's snack time again.

Last week was vacation week. We seem to have established that our February tradition is a few days in NYC. This year we saw "Billy Elliot" and visited Liberty and Ellis Islands. The show was great. The kids seemed to really enjoy it. The time spent on the islands was very memorable. We took our time getting there, but still had several hours to spend looking around at each site. Kim took a zillion pictures. She seemed especially interested in photographing the statue, but I know that she also took some shots at Ellis Island that she's particularly happy about. Since we got on the ferry to leave the island she has asked several times when I think that we might be able to go back.

No one else in our family had been to these sites before, but for me it was the second time. It was a fascinating for me because of memories from my last visit in the spring of 1983. At that time, visitors on Liberty Island were still permitted to take the stairs to the top of the statue. I remember climbing the narrow spiral staircase and being inside the head of the monument. I can't remember the view from the small openings in the crown, but I have a pretty strong memory of the tiny observation room inside her head. Post 9/11, most of rules about where visitors can go have changed. Now, no one is allowed to go inside the statue. At the top of the base, they have cut a few rather large openings in the ceiling which offer a view inside of the statue. The spiral staircase is easy see. It was odd to look at it and imagine myself walking up it all those years ago, understanding full well that no one I know will ever get to do that again.

I had forgotten that after 9/11 the entire island was closed for awhile. The security now is airport style. Twice during the day, once before we left Battery Park, and then again before we could enter the base of the statue, we had to empty our pockets, take off our belts and watches, and pass through x-ray machines. As if the searches weren't enough, the guys in SWAT team garb carrying riffles made the whole scene a bit surreal. The contrast of all of this with my memories gave me a sense of sadness for Nate and Abbie. There are several things that I have done that they will never get to do.

My sadness was overcome by a sense of being uniquely privileged when I saw Ellis Island again, now that it has been restored. In 1983, when I was a junior in high school, one of my teachers organized a day trip to see Ellis. It had only recently been opened to the public and none of the restoration work had begun. It was an amazing scene to me. We were brought into the complex through an area far from the main building. We were led through hallways lined with protective scaffolding, past offices and rooms that looked like they were simply deserted one day. The desks, cabinets, window dressings, fans and other objects were all covered in dust and fallen paint chips, but pretty much left in order. The Registry Room, or "great hall" as I called it at the time, was the most chilling scene. I remember feeling as though I was in a sacred space, and yet at the same time, it was desecrated. Any of the fixtures that might have been of value had been taken by looters. There was graffiti, broken doors and windows, water damage, and the room was filthy. Now the room looks like it could be rented for receptions. The fixtures gleam, the stone work is immaculate, and the windows are fully restored, flooding the room with light. It's odd; the space amazed me again, but this time it seemed less sacred. I guess that's main reason why I experienced such a strong feeling of gratitude for my first visit, 26 years ago.





This picture was taken at Ellis Island, just before we boarded the ferry to return to Manhattan. All of the other pictures in this post were taken by Kim or me, except for the picture of the Registry Room from 1983. I have pulled this image from the web without permission.