Quick Update

Hello, all.  I hope you're all enjoying the holiday season :).  We've had an eventful past few weeks!  Lots of celebrating - Serena is  now 11, and Cairo turned 10 yesterday.  We actually did end up going to the Poconos, after all, and it was fabulous!  Unfortunately, I ended up in the ER last Thursday night with a kidney infection while Dishon was in Oklahoma.  It was scary, but I'm on the mend.  We have Cairo's travel dates for his trip to Canada (7/2 - 7/13/13).  The many workshops I've been leading at work have been a great success, and now we're gearing up for a family road trip to spend Christmas in Charlotte, NC.  I just wanted to say hi and happy holidays to everyone.  While we're away, I'll be working on the second episode of The Watcher (finally :), and I hope to post it in early January.  Thanks for being a part of my tribe . . .

Love,

Afrika

Vicarious Fireplaces

I grew up in the Flatbush section of Brooklyn, New York.  When it was cold, our apartment was heated by radiators.  I didn’t think anything of it.  With the exception of a few friends who had homes off of Rogers Avenue as you get closer to Empire Boulevard, all of my friends lived in apartments.  I only ever remember going to a classmate’s house once, and I’d visit relatives out in Patchogue, Long Island during the summer, but those visits took place in the summer, so I wasn’t thinking about heat. 

Not so much in my neighborhood now, although I do live in the suburbs, but mostly when I’m driving Serena to gymnastics on Wednesday and Thursday nights, I have the pleasure of passing homes with fireplaces.  I LOVE the smell of fireplaces, and when we’re able to go to our special little bed and breakfast in the Poconos, it’s so great to be able to sit in front of the fireplace.  It’s just so cozy! I would love to have a fireplace in our home, but getting to be around one sometimes is also pretty nice.  

One of the most heartbreaking things for me recently is, after wanting to go to the winter celebration at our special bed and breakfast in the Poconos for the past four years, having reservations for the weekend of December 1^st for the special holiday dinner, and fantasizing about sitting in front of the fireplace when it’s actually cold, and not in the spring when we usually go for our anniversary, we realized that we actually won’t be able to go that weekend. Sigh.  

Wouldn’t it be so nice to have a money tree? That way, when we have to unexpectedly drop over $1K to fix Dishon’s car, and another $1K to fix my fractured tooth, it wouldn’t derail romantic weekends like this one. I'm keeping hope alive, though.  Maybe something miraculous will happen in the next week, and we'll still be able to go. I'm going to hold on to that reservation until we absolutely have to cancel. If we aren't able to go, there’s always next December . . .  :(  I guess, then, vicarious fireplaces will have to continue to suffice.  

The Amazing Race Weekend

On Saturday, October 27th, Randolph had its first Amazing Race as a part of our Harvest Hoopla.  We started out at Powers Farm, which is a new gathering place in the town where there’s a little playground, lots of green space, a walking trail, a covered picnic area, etc.  This was the first year for the Amazing Race.  The rules stated that no one on our team could be behind the wheel of a car at any time.  Since the buses don’t run regularly on Saturdays, and taking a taxi all over town would be costly, we decided to walk everywhere.  It wasn’t really fair, because there were teams of teenagers who had their parents drive them around to collect the clues.  In retrospect, we probably could’ve had  Dishon drive us, since the teams could be as smaller as three, and at least one person under 18, but I’m glad we didn’t use a car.

Higashi School

Our first clue led us to the Boston Higashi School.  This was really challenging because the exit was closer to where we were coming from, so we went in that way on foot, and we encountered a man who works for the Higashi school who told us that the folks at the school didn’t know anything about the race.  We thought we were at the wrong school, and started to head in another direction, but then some of the other participants had mercy on us and told us we were headed the wrong way.  The person with the next clue was at the entrance to the Higashi School, so we went back to get the clue, but lost quite a bit of time. 

Zapustas

 

The next site was Daddy’s Dairy.  Unfortunately, it was here that both kids started to complain about being tired, and we had just begun!  If we had known that we’d be doing so much walking (we didn’t know about the no driving rule until we were at Powers Farm), we would definitely had given Serena her inhaler and brought along bottles of water, but we’ll do that next year.  The next clue was verbal, and took us across town to the Zapustas Ice Arena.  There we took a bathroom break and bought lots of bottles of water from the snack bar.  

The next clue was hidden at the Elks Hall.  That clue took us to the new Memorial Field where Dishon represented the family well by kicking a soccer goal (we chose between that and a field goal).  We passed by one of the teams heading back to Powers Farm, so although we were encouraged when we saw lots of envelopes remaining at each of the sites, seeing that team heading back at that point reminded us that we were really just in it for the fun of it :).

Randolph High

  

Fire Station

The next clue led us to the pool at the HS where we had to guess how many pieces of candy corn were in a jar, and the count was the combination for the locker that contained our next clue, so we had to be precise.  The next clue took us to the fire station, and then finally back near the track where we had to choose between hitting two 3-point shots, or five 2-point shots.  We opted for the latter, and Dishon represented our family well yet again.  There was a school bus that ultimately would take us back to Powers Farm, but we decided to just go ahead and walk.  By the time we ended up back at Powers Farm, we didn’t even know where to go, because so many of the teams had already finished, and lots of other activities were going on.  So, we didn’t get the $500 prize, the $250 prize, or the dinner and a movie, but we had fun (or, at least Dishon and I did).  Next year we may have to kick our shorties to the curb, and find another person to complete our team, and let the kids just cheer us on :). 

The rest of that night was a lot of fun, too!  We were interested in the hot air balloon, but since Hurricane Sandy was coming, the weather prevented the balloon from going up, but isn’t it beautiful?  We had pizza for lunch, and after a nap, the kids got dressed up (Serena was Supergirl, and Cairo was the Green Lantern), went to the Haunted Hayride (we had the option between scary and not-so-scary, but we went all in for scary), and then to Trunk or Treat at Imagination station.  We figured that at least if Halloween was interrupted by the hurricane, the kids would have some candy.

We were at home together because of the hurricane on Monday, but thankfully, we never lost power, and didn’t experience any flooding.  It was still a little stressful, because the wind was fierce, and we are surrounded by very large pine trees.  But all was well, and our prayers go out to all who suffered loss :(.  

The Watcher, Part I

April sat across from the two women on the train and tried not to stare at them.  She felt the tension from her grimacing forehead and knew that she wasn't doing a great job of averting her glance.  She had seen them on the train before. It seemed like maybe they met up at the station and traveled into work together pretty regularly. 

"Girl, please," one woman said to the other, gently slapping her friend on the arm.  "You know my boss is not going to let me take a Friday off before a long weekend."  They were familiar.  Familiar enough for one of them to know what the other's boss was like. 

"Yeah, I know.  That's why I wouldn't even say anything to him about it.  Just call in sick.  He won't want a doctor's note if it's less than three days. You can't say no to a weekend on the Vineyard.  You know I can't pay for that whole place by myself."  Familiar.  Familiar enough for one of them to know the other's financial situation.  April sighed, and turned to the back of the Metro.  She might as well sign up for one of the medical studies.  She figured that, aside from her students, no one would miss her much if she disappeared for two weeks for a sleep study.  April scanned through the ads, stopping briefly at the one about depression.  She didn't know if she was clinically depressed, or just sad.  Was there a difference?  When the two women laughed aloud, April almost cried.  Why was it so hard to find a good friend?

She had come close several times.  It seemed like she was connecting with Robin at work. Robin was one of those down to earth women who could easily be trusted, and was quick to say yes to a girl’s night out.  She had even invited April to be part of a book club, and even though April hated the book, she endured it to enjoy Robin's company.  But Robin's position at the school was cut, and she was working in another part of the city now.  April had never been a phone person, so they tried keeping in touch through texts and Facebook.  Out of sight, out of mind took over pretty quickly, though, and she hadn't heard from Robin in over six months.  

Just before her train approached the station, she reached the back page of the Boston Metro, and found a handwritten note between the pages.  Meet me by the Dunkin Donuts.  Weird.  She was sure that note must’ve been intended for someone else.  Who would’ve even had a chance to put this note in there, though?  Just like every morning, she got her paper directly from the guy who handed the papers out to passengers as they rushed to their trains.  Morning, grab your freeee Metro.  He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would’ve written that note.  And which Dunkin Donuts?  The one at the station she left, or the one at the station she was headed to? 

April glanced down at her watch as the train pulled into the station, and realized that she had a little extra time.  What could it hurt?  She could use a little adventure.  She took the stairs two at a time and stood in front of the Dunkin Donuts just outside of the station.  People rushed out with their coffee, and in looking for their morning fix.  She stood there for five minutes, and nothing special happened.  April went in and looked around.  Everything seemed normal.  No one waiting around.  She held the door for the next person to enter the store on her way out - a teen-aged girl with tears streaming down her face. 

“Thank you,” the girl said to April.  “That’s the first nice thing that happened to me all morning.”

April looked down at the note, checked her watch again, and even though she risked being late to work, she had a prep for first period, so it wouldn’t be so bad.

“Are you okay?” April asked the girl, closing the door, and pulling her to the side near the straws and napkins.

“No,” the girl said, shaking her head and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, which April noticed was bruised.  “I’m not okay at all.  I’m in a lot of trouble.”

Motivation

Facing rejection is never easy.  I've been working on my novel, or some form of it since 1994.  I remember that summer, because it was the summer I spent as an intern with Parents magazine through the American Society of Magazine Editors (ASME).  That's a story in and of itself (quick digression: I was hoping to be placed at Essence magazine that summer, because I was sure that I wanted to write for Essence after college.  Once I realized what it would mean to start at the bottom in the magazine world [fact-checking], I was all set).

Anyway, I wrote, because I felt like I was destined to become a writer (not realizing that I already was one :).  I've been writing ever since I can remember.  A few years ago, my mom gave me a poem I wrote when I was five.  My parents gave me a diary when I was seven, and I kept a journal for years after that. I entered novel writing contests through the Massachusetts Cultural Council for years between 1997 - 2003 (fiction pieces were only considered every other year).  I entered, waited, wasn't selected, waited, entered again, waited, wasn't selected again, stopped trying for a while, got my nerve back up and entered, waited, wasn't selected, and then I stopped entering.

Years later, I joined the Christian Writers Guild, and entered their first novel contest.  I wasn't selected for that, either (which was tough, because I had purchased tickets to go to the conference at which the winner would be announced, and to network, but when I found out that I wasn't selected for anything, I lost my desire to fly out to Colorado).  It was hard to lose again, but trying to get the novel ready for entry gave me the motivation I needed to finish the first draft, and the connection with a mentor whose advice I still deeply value.  She read my manuscript and gave me some great, detailed advice about how to improve the story, which I've been working on little by little.

I have been receiving daily updates from Jeff Goins' and Joe Bunting's blogs about being a writer for a while now, and reading a bit of You Are a Writer, and Let's Write a Short Story.  I also purchased Don Miller's Storyline book, which has been transformative for me - helping me to be engage more fully  in the story that is my life (all of Afrika - not just the mom part of me). But, to be honest, I hadn't fully committed to anything, because it's just so easy to get busy with the kids, cooking dinner, shopping for picture day clothes, doing Serena's hair, reviewing homework, driving to and from gymnastics, and crashing on the weekend, that I didn't want to disappoint myself by making a commitment to really write every day.  To be even more honest, being cut from my position last spring (only to see that, although I was told that I was being cut for budgetary reasons, a new position very similar to what I had been doing was created . . . ) left me quite raw, and not anxious to go through more rejection. So I started this blog to at least write something every week, and I really enjoy blogging.

Last month, I found out about Joe Bunting's Let's Write a Short Story contest, and even though I was afraid, I entered it, and then tried not to think about.  Today, I found out that my story was the runner-up!  And it's a short story I really like, too.  I feel proud :).

What I learned today is that a little bit of winning, even if it's not first place, really helps to keep me going.  It's encouraging to know that someone read my words and thought they were interesting.  I've decided to take the leap and join Tribe Writers to find my tribe, and work through the isolation I've been feeling as a writer.  I'll let you all know how it goes . . .

Autumn

It's hard to say what I love most about the fall.  Watching the changing colors of the leaves is definitely at the top of the list - burnt oranges, burgundies, greens, all kinds of yellows . . . This weekend at our weekly celebration church service, we talked about the concept of a beautiful death.  True - the leaves are dying, but they're never more beautiful than when they're transforming.

There's definitely something special about pumpkins to me, especially the little ones.  Yesterday I discovered that another plus to fall is that it gives the kids an easy way to take on more responsibility around the house.  They both enjoyed sweeping all of the pine cones out of the driveway.

I'm really into scents, and all of the pumpkin spice and apple cider candles make the house feel so cozy.  We don't have a fireplace, but the candles feel like the next best thing.

We took the kids apple picking on Saturday.  We went to a different place than last year, and it was cool because this farm had animals (including a lama), a hay maze, and a massive hay hill (which Serena fell down several times :).  I'm really into coupons, so it helped that this farm was giving away free apple pencils if you presented the ad from the Metro newspaper.  Although picking the apples is fun, I especially like the hot apple cider donuts at the end, and seeing that, even though our kids are getting older, long car rides still put them to sleep :).

It's also pretty interesting to drag the boxes out of the crawl space so we can put away the kids' summer clothes, and take out the fall clothes from the previous year.  Each time we do this, we end up with at least four bags of clothes to give away - the summer clothes that we know they won't fit next summer, and last year's fall clothes that we hoped would still fit this fall, but didn't quite make it.

I took the kids shopping on Sunday for their picture day clothes (picture day is on October 1st), and although I usually don't enjoy shopping, I liked watching them pick out their outfits, and seeing how their personal styles are developing. Serena picked out a very cute outfit, which was no surprise for our little fashionista.  I was hoping for one outfit that would work both for picture day and an upcoming wedding, but interestingly enough, she ended up with a picture day outfit, and a party dress that wasn't quite what she wanted for picture day, but was perfect for the wedding.  Go figure ;).  I had a new experience this year.  Cairo has decided that he wants to dress up more, so we bought his dress shirt, a tie, a reversible belt, dress socks, and dress pants.  We ordered his shoes from Zappos, because the selection for dress shoes his size at Kohl's is very limited.  Thankfully, his outfit will work for picture day and the wedding :).  I can't wait to share their school pictures on the blog.

Coming attractions:

• Dishon's birthday
• Serena turns 11!
• Thanksgiving at home
• A romantic getaway to the Settler's Inn in early December
• Cairo turns 10!
• Christmas in Charlotte, NC

Enjoy the fall, everyone! :)

Settler's Inn in the Poconos.  Can't wait!!!

September 11, 2001

Disclaimer: I did not lose a loved one that day, nor am I personally affiliated with any of the first responders, (FDNY, NYPD, etc.).  The loss I've written about here is different from that of someone who lost someone that day.  It's about that day for me as someone who grew up in New York City, and spent that day wondering if my loved ones were all safe.

I was seven months pregnant.  I had just recently finished my first year of teaching in Framingham, MA, and because I knew I wanted to be a stay at home mom for a while, I resigned from my teaching position to keep another teacher from being cut.  That gave me a somewhat carefree summer, enjoying my first pregnancy, which ended up requiring quite a few trips to the doctor for regular monitoring.  Serena was small, and my doctor was afraid that there might be something wrong. There wasn't.  She's just the right size.  Always has been - but the doctors didn't know that yet.

My regular morning routine was to wake up with Dishon, have breakfast with him, see him off to work, and go back to sleep.  I was in the middle of my morning nap when Dishon called, and told me to turn on the television.  I was in disbelief for a long time.  By that time, the second plane had just hit, and I just stared at the screen.  Dishon and I didn't say much to one another - I tried to describe to him what I was seeing, since I don't think he was near a television, and then I got off to call my family in New York City to make sure that everyone was okay.

My dad and sister worked (still work - my dad, just until the 28th, when he will retire) downtown

Manhattan, not very far from the World Trade Center (update: my sister passed away suddenly on January 26, 2019).  I was able to get my mom on the phone, who, at the time, was working at Brooklyn Criminal Court downtown Brooklyn.  My sister watched from the street as people jumped from the towers, and she repeatedly heard distress calls of "officer down" from a nearby radio.  I told my mom that the south tower didn't look right to me.  It looked slanted, and I was worried that it might fall, and what that might mean for my dad and sister.  Sadly, right as we were talking, the first tower collapsed.  My dad and sister were not able to get back to Brooklyn over the Brooklyn Bridge.  They stopped letting people cross, because so many people were going over the bridge that it began to sway.  My dad and sister both walked back to Brooklyn over the Manhattan Bridge.

I still can't believe it.  Eleven years later, and my heart still feels heavy.  I think the memorial is beautiful, and yet, I still have a problem accepting the new skyline.  I worked in 6 World Trade for two summers during my college breaks - the first summer for the US Consumer Product Safety Commission (CPSC), and the following summer for the EEO of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms (ATF).  That second summer, the EEO was gone most of the time, and didn't leave much for me to do, so I'd entertain myself by riding the elevator in the Twin Towers up and down . . . I also spent a good deal of time in the underground mall area, and walking through to the World Financial Center to check out the shops, and have lunch by the water sometimes.  My favorite thing was to sit out on the WTC plaza and enjoy the weekly summer jazz festivals after buying lunch from the lunch trucks nearby.  The following summer, I worked a few blocks away, but would still come to the plaza.  I loved the World Trade Center area - walking down to South Street Seaport sometimes, and then returning to work in 6 World Trade . . . shopping in Century 21.  I vividly remember a second grade field trip to the observation deck and how terrified I was to look down.  It was so scary to be up that high.  Dishon and I got married on the roof of my parents' apartment building in 1997. It was right next to the Brooklyn Bridge, and the Twin Towers grace the backdrop of our wedding video.  I remember Dishon and I enjoying a romantic evening sitting together on the promenade in off of Montague Street in Brooklyn.  I loved that skyline.  I'm having a hard time embracing another.

On that beautiful September morning, that area of the city became something else - dark and horrific, but I also think about all the heroism that was displayed on that day, and it makes the memory of it a little easier to bear.  I am thankful that I didn't lose anyone that day, but so many other people did, and it hurts to think about it.  It hurts so much.  Most of the time when I go down to visit my family on my own, I take Amtrak, and my parents pick me up from Penn Station.  To get to where they now live in/on Staten Island, we drive down the West Side highway.  When we pass by where it all happened, I ache inside.  I don't think that will ever go away, really :(.