As Time Goes By

The last time I even opened my blog, pumpkins grinned fiercely and goblins roamed the neighborhood. Seven months have passed since Halloween and I sit here, astonished that my older son will be graduating from college in just two days.

On a warm sunny day, back in 1999, my son began his education adventure in our local elementary school. Toting an Arthur the Aardvark backpack and sporting velcro sneakers, he headed off without looking back into the kindergarten classroom that became his second home. Six short years later, he and his classmates - now friends - were essentially finished with reading, writing and 'rithmatic and moved on to the Middle School.

In our little corner of northern New Jersey, the Middle School and High School share the same building. The only ones who seemed to mind the fact that eleven-year-olds were running around the hallways with seniors seemed to be the parents. The older kids liked having the younger ones around, showing them where to go, laughing at their supposed stupidity.

Suddenly, three years passed and my son achieved another milestone, moving on up to the High School, after a completely unnecessary Promotion Ceremony. After all, the only difference between the Middle School and the High School is the size of the lockers. 

And now he and his younger brother were both in the same building - albeit with different sized lockers. The elementary years were over and it was time to get serious. 

Above- last day of Middle School
Below - first day of High School
Note that my kids are wearing the same shorts on both days!

The first three years of High School flew by in the blink of an eye. Suddenly, parents were meeting to organize the post-graduation event, Grad Ball (I have blogged about that before here: Wonderment). Fundraising, photographing and construction took place over the course of fifteen months - yup, we started during junior year.  But Grad Ball had an added advantage. We were so focused on the party that we were distracted from the event that the party was to celebrate - graduation. I have to admit, that was not such a bad thing.

Before we knew it, June 19th arrived. It was the hottest day I could ever remember and with graduation to take place outdoors, no one relished the idea. Promptly at 6:00pm, however, with the Ambulance Corp manning the cooling tent, the pomp and circumstance began. All I can remember is thinking that I couldn't believe the day had come and also hoping it would end very quickly.  Did I mention it was the hottest day I could ever remember? It was so terrible that parents finally convinced the principal to let the kids wear shorts under their gowns instead of long pants and shirts with ties.

I have no recollection of that summer, the summer spent acquiring all the accoutrements of college - the bed spread and sheets, the lamp, the printer, the laundry hamper. I barely remember moving him in to his hot dorm on a Saturday in late August, of making the bed, of unpacking the clothes. Of the saying goodbye. But at least he graciously (okay, reluctantly) stood before the tree outside our home one last time before heading south to his future.

How these four years have flown. It is trite, but it seems like only yesterday that I took this photo of him in his High School class shirt, about to make the trip south. Yet, here we are, just two days from yet another graduation on another hot day in still another outdoor venue. This one will be packed with 4000 graduates, not 225. There will be no individual procession to receive a diploma. Those will be sent through the mail. It will be impossible from the stadium seats to pick out my son - still small in my mind - from the crowd of grads all wearing the same outfit. 

But one thing will not be different. The pride I feel of raising two wonderful, amazing boys, of guiding them into college, of watching them bloom and grow will be the same. In the end, though, their success rests entirely on their shoulders. My husband and I only provided the means. They will have to do the rest. And my older son has indeed done the rest. He has been on the Dean's List all eight of his semesters. He added a second major during his junior year and completed all the requirements within the allotted four years, something many of his friends have not been able to do. He lived in an apartment and learned about paying rent and bills, about shopping and cooking for yourself, about becoming an adult.

When this weekend ends, my empty nest will be full again, filled to the brim with boys and all the stuff they have accumulated while away from home. I had gotten used to the quiet. I had gotten used to not finding teenage detritus everywhere. I do not relish that reappearing, but knowing that my boys are here, with me, for perhaps just a little while longer makes the mess entirely worthwhile. 

Turn Back! Beware! It's Halloween!!!!!

There is nothing funny about Halloween. This sarcastic festival reflects, rather, an infernal demand for revenge by children on the adult world. -- Jean Baudrillard 

It is just after 3:00pm on Halloween. I have already had four groups of children knocking at my door, demanding candy. Surprisingly, they were not little ones, but tween girls in fun and creative costumes or middle school boys dressed as creatures I do not recognize. I have yet to see a single little SpiderMan or Elsa or Lion King or Olaf. But it is early and it is Saturday and I expect there will be many, many more to come.

Even though I have no children at home, no Halloween parades to march in and a desperate need to avoid candy, I love Halloween. It is, without a fraction of a doubt, the best holiday each year. 

Why? Easy. It is a holiday without obligations. No family visits. No dinners to plan and prepare. I would say no decorations, but despite my lack of children, I still decorate for Halloween. I still buy and carve a pumpkin each year. 

I still put out skeletons and headstones and police tape and witches and ghosts.

   

I love this day and night because it brings children that are not mine to my door. They are all cute and funny and sweet and charming and oh so innocent, no matter the age, no matter the costume. I love seeing these children because they remind me of the boys I once lead by the hand to neighbors' homes. Laster, I sent them out in gangs with neighborhood children and one parent or another. Finally, and sadly, I let them out in the world to terrorize a neighborhood other than my own with friends I barely knew and certainly could not recognize.

My oldest missed his last opportunity to trick-or-treat as a high school senior (yeah, they do that around here) due to a freak October storm we called Hallsnoween. That was hugely disappointing for everyone.

The next Halloween was sacrificed due to the horrors of Superstorm Sandy. October 31st passed in a blur of darkness and fallen trees and cold nights. Only the smallest of the small missed going out that year.

Christmases and Thanksgivings and Independence Days all blur together as the years pass, but because costumes change, each Halloween sticks in my mind. Blond wigs, witch hats, parades at my grandparents' house with my innumerable cousins, and taking my much younger brother, dressed as SuperMan, around my childhood neighborhood are days and moments I shall never forget. I have little curled 3x3-inch Kodak prints with white borders of those events, stuck in a scrapbook, preserved forever. 

The clearest memory of all, though, is the year I was my hero, Mary Poppins, carpet bag and all. Sears had great costumes in those days. They were real clothes, not the flimsy costumes they make now with string ties in the back. I had that carpet bag for years. I wish I had it still and have no idea of its fate. My parents forgot to take pictures that year. Making the memory was more important than preserving the moment. As it should be.

I got a rock. -- Charlie Brown (Charles Schultz)