Andy Smallman

I don’t have a picture to accompany today’s post, the first time I’ve ever tried to get away with this. And on a day in which so much happened…

– Chloe had several friends over for dinner, many of whom came into town because one of their college friends tragically died on Sunday in a mountain climbing accident. It’s just not right for 21 and 22 year-olds to have to deal with the emotions and tragedy involved in one of their close friends dying.

– Celeste has been working hard on a specific homework assignment having to do with a transcendent experience. She’s supposed to express in 250-300 English words an experience that is causing her to expand a paradigm, as if being a French teenager in the United States doesn’t cause her to do this on a moment-to-moment basis.

– And here we are on a day in which one of the most tragic traffic accidents in the city’s history took place, on a road in which Melinda and I were driving three hours earlier.

I have no picture to post but many pictures in my head…

Get your own hoodies, T-shirts and other 143 paraphernalia with proceeds to Kind Living!

There is one letter in the word “I,” four letters in the word “love,” and three letters in the word “you.” 1-4-3, I love you. So said Mr. Rogers, he of the famous American children’s TV show, in this great article in Esquire Magazine from 1998. So moved by this article was I that I made it a featured part of PSCS several years ago, and created an entire 143 campaign that featured buttons, T-shirts , and hoodies. It was a big hit that still has its fans.

So note Celeste here in her new 143 hoodie. My mom passed it over to our house as it was just too big for her. I offered it to Celeste last night, and tonight I discovered her wearing it. It looks pretty good on her, don’t you think?

Interested in your own 143 T-shirt? Take a look.

The absolutely cute kid in this picture is Vivian, daughter of Sahra, grand-daughter of Bob & Griselda, niece to Si. She lives in Portland with her parents and younger sister. A couple years back, Melinda and I were down in Portland and had lunch with Vivian, her baby sister (at the time), and Sahra. I gave Vivian a napkin so she could wipe her face. Soon thereafter, apparently, she referred to me as Napkin Guy.

Given my desire to be seen as a superhero, I formerly accepted the title of Napkin Guy, able to wipe small faces in a single swipe (most of the time – I mean sometimes those little noses needed several swipes, give a superhero a break). I asked my artist friend Fish Astronaut, he who illustrates all my online kindness activities, if he could create a Napkin Guy character. Bringing this all the way home, I uploaded the image to a website that makes T-shirts of one’s images and there you go.

Vivian now has a Napkin Guy T-shirt.

We took Celeste to the Puyallup Fair today, the “we” being Melinda and me. I was very helpful throughout the day. First, I helped Celeste learn how to pronounce Puyallup. It’s “pew,” like something smells bad (or a seat in a church). Then “Al,” my dad’s name. And finally “Up,” the opposite of down.

All together now, “Pew,” “Al,” “Up.” Perfect. Extra credit if you say it with a French accent.

As you can see in the first photo, I also broke the rules of the fair by touching Celeste. That’s my hand in the lower left, clearly violating the posted rules. My bad. I did explain to a sheep not to touch Celeste. And I sang “Happy Birthday” to a cow who will turn 4 on Monday. While I was doing that, Celeste and Melinda wandered away. I thought that was a bit rude. The cow did not seem to mind, however.

Later, Celeste and Melinda waited over 30 minutes to pay $10 to be tortured. And by torture, I mean they willingly allowed themselves to be strapped into a seat, elevated well above the ground, and then spun around and around. This seemed decidedly “unfair,” hence the name of this blog post.

To get back at the powers that be, Celeste ate some of her father’s beard. Oh, Papa’s Beard is the literal translation for cotton candy. I bet you knew that.m

This picture was emailed to me today by Sieglinde, another administrator at PSCS. It was taken on Monday at the annual PSCS retreat, an overnight in which the students, the teaching staff, and I head off for two days of contextualizing and celebrating the new school year. One of the school’s teachers, Scobie, brought along his nice camera and snapped a number of photos.

I’m not sure why I chose to present here. On one hand, it seems a little self-indulgent to post it, especially with it being such a close-up. But the picture got me thinking about my age. Inside my head I think I’m younger than I look in this picture. Looking at me there, I realize I am 52 years-old, and I figure others see me as being older than I sometimes think I am.

But isn’t it true, you are as old as you feel?

Anyway, it’s an interesting thing for me to contemplate. And, hey, I got carded buying a six pack of beer at Safeway a couple of weeks ago!

So at long last, eight days late, Celeste got to have her first day at an American high school. The teacher’s strike appears to have ended. We won’t know for sure if it’s completely settled until they get together over the weekend to vote on the new contract. Their leadership team has recommended they accept the negotiated deal so they returned to school today.

On a slightly side note, if you are interested in a very interesting perspective on the Seattle teacher’s strike, I highly recommend this piece that was published in The Stranger, one of Seattle’s alternative media sources. It was written by Jen Graves who just finished up serving on the PSCS Board of Trustees.

Now back to Celeste and her first day of school. She left the house with Melinda at 7:35 this morning, Melinda explaining the importance of taking a picture on our doorstep. Of course, I had to take a picture of Melinda taking that picture, so here you have it. When we got home, Melinda and I drilled Celeste on her day, which sounds like it went just fine. She found her classes, had lunch with some new friends, and worked hard to understand what her teachers were saying.

Yup, it sounds pretty much like the experience just about every sophomore had today at Roosevelt High School in Seattle.