I do declare … a kindergartner. That’s what my daughter is now. She graduated from Memorial Presbyterian Day School, a wonderful place where she learned amazing things, including how to turn washable paints into permanent ink stains. It was a terrific little ceremony the other night, filled with merriment, songs by children (some whose voices could carve names into glass) and diplomas for little tikes in blue caps and flowing gowns. Precious.
Now for some “tips” on surviving a vacation to Orlando
I have met mayhem, and it is called Orlando over Memorial Day weekend. That’s when all the people come out. When the heat turns up. When even ice cream is hot. When the only way to move about a theme park is to body surf atop the crowds. When the roads are lined with people from Wisconsin and Kansas who have forgotten their cars came pre-installed with gas pedals. (They just stop in the middle of four-lane highways!) I took the family to Orlando where we stayed in a resort, visited the Magic Kingdom and drank so much chlorinated pool water that our insides are bleached white. As with all my trips, I learned a lot. So I figured I would share some tips on how to make it back alive. Heed my advice:
‘Star Wars’ tattoos and that fanatical force
It took me a couple moments to get what I was seeing — the girl with the “Star Wars” tattoo. They’ve become so commonplace, tattoos. So expected and ubiquitous that we hardly notice them anymore. Unless one is different, unexpected and on some level connects with us. I can’t remember the last time I saw someone with a character from “Star Wars” permanently etched on their body. This was a battle droid, and I must say … different, unexpected, and totally connected with me.
A bookbag full of … digital textbooks?
We shouldn’t be shocked really. Because we all knew this was the way things were heading. It’s a digital world ruled by digital devices, so doesn’t it make sense that textbooks in school would be next? Yet, something in me was a little stunned when I read the article headlined, “Lawmakers approve move to digital textbooks.”
Happy Mother’s Day … Now here are your worms
I hope you thanked your mom on Mother’s Day. That fearless woman who brought you into the world. After carting you about in her womb. Who raised you and made sure your shoes were tied and your teeth brushed. Who made sure you grew up to be respectable and responsible and, if nothing else, somewhat civilized. You use a napkin, right? Because we all owe them that — a little thanks. Did you kiss your momma last Sunday? Actually, I didn’t. If I tried to kiss mine, she would swat me on the head. It’s not her thing.
Robin King: Remembering a teacher whose lessons continue on
It took an awful long time to write this column. Maybe too long. I don’t know why, but it’s been hard. Maybe it was too soon. Maybe I hadn’t come to terms with it, or wasn’t ready to admit he was really gone. Whatever the reason, I’ve been delaying it since December.
Answering the call of the ice cream truck
There I sat, desperately trying to write a column — forcing myself to sit at the desk so I could work my way through some half-baked idea.
But tinkling through the air came a sound — music. A cacophony of bleeps and whistles, frenetic and super-charged.
A merry-go-round on speed.
Summer commeth … and the winter projects still aren’t finished
It happens every year. EVERY doggone year. You think we would be wise to it by now. But we’re not, and don’t realize the error of our ways until the cool spring air starts to fizzle and the inferno that is Florida begins its scorching march across the land.
As one curtain falls, another one starts to rise
“Dad, am I going to get gonorrhea?” asked the attentive — too attentive! — girl at intermission. It’s not a question a father expects to hear from his 5-year-old daughter. I choked on a gulp of air as I considered “appropriate” answers. Because, “You’ll never be around boys! NEVER! NEVER! NEVER!!!” is not an appropriate answer. Thanks, Broadway!
Traveling with college kids, Part II … He survives and learns strange things
Last week I was worrying about traveling with two college students to a Society of Professional Journalists conference in Birmingham, Ala. We went to pick up several awards for the college newspaper they work on and that I advise. Certainly it was a proud moment for all of us, and we had a good time. Most importantly, I survived it all. The roof of the Southwest jet we flew didn’t pop open like a convertible, and there was no ill-advised joking in the security line that resulted in a body-cavity search of yours truly. Hooray for that.