The healing journey of a widowed, unschooling badass in Delaware.
This week, Kristen received an assignment that was close to my heart.
The Story of Ferdinand was one of my sons’ favorite books. A new client brought us two of the illustrations to recreate. Kristen’s accuracy in honoring the original drawings is stunning.
It was a long day, mostly on the road. I didn’t want to train. When I did get to the mat, I was tired and distracted.
I did it any way, drills and four messy matches.
Jiu-jitsu continues to be my hardest physical challenge.
I had a thrilling game in goal this week. The opponent’s team boasted a skilled former teammate that I share a friendly-enough rivalry with. I had to manage a flurry of shots and physical play on the ground (no kicks to my face, but very close). One of these shots was too quick for my hands and smashed off my chest. It felt strange.
Once the scramble to clear the ball was over, I put my hand to my jersey. I was wearing my grandmother’s rosary.
There was nothing to do at that point. There is little respite in indoor soccer and the goalie never gets a break. It was protected under two layers of clothing and it had existed for decades with a woman who worked hard most of her life, I couldn’t ruin it with a little soccer, could I?
The game only got more intense. We stayed ahead, but only by one or two. I stopped a penalty kick and had enough luck to hold them to three goals. We won with five.
I forgot about the rosary and crucifix. I was elated and drained by the conflict. I went home and undressed in the dark to shower. I placed the necklace on my dresser without a thought.
I forgot to put it on the next morning. I’m not accustomed to wearing jewelry and it hasn’t become a habit.
After coming home from the studio, I went to put it on for our evening outing. The crucifix was missing from the rosary.
I searched my home, laundry, and car, but it seems obvious where I lost it.
Now I’m sitting in the parking lot of the facility, hoping that there’s an early game and I get a chance to search the field.
Check back here for the update.
I’m a Pisces and that’s why I wanted to throw some roses.
It’s okay to feel guilt over the new freedoms afforded like a parting gift by loss. I got a Lego workshop and I’ve manifested an amazing life.
I’ll never not feel horrible at what it cost Mary, her boys, her family, her friends. It’s impossible to balance my happiness against all that pain.
What else could I have done? Could I have let the grief crush me forever? Yup. Fallen deeper into alcoholism and rob my sons of a father? Sure. Live a martyr to my loss? Uh huh.
I decided to grasp every advantage and freedom hidden within a storm of difficulties. I had a new journal when she passed. It had this quote from Hamlet on the cover, “Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take Arms against a Sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them.”
It’s made me braver and more free.
I started life as a Jehovah’s Witness. I didn’t have a birthday celebration until I had little interest in them. I’d just as soon leave that day unmarked and keep doing my thing. It grew into an actual discomfort around recognizing the day of my birth.
Maybe I’ve watched too many people die to not count my life in moments rather than years. Maybe I’m too focused on the present and fear the passing of time. Maybe I was born an old crank.
Kristen and Westen did a lot to change that this week. I turned 45 on Monday and, with help from my mom and Kristen, Westen planned an elaborate treasure hunt.
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It was based on Red Dead Redemption 2, a video game I enjoy. Although the whole adventure was fun, complete with tracking clues, seeking wildflowers, and hunting a bounty, the highlight was a surprise treasure.
This was my grandmother’s rosary. While I’m not Catholic, I feel an affection toward the traditions and rituals.
My grandmother was Mary Zerbey, my late wife was Mary Zerbey, and I’ve found, at least, one more Mary Zerbey in my family research. This simple image of Mary and Jesus connects me with my faith and my feminine ancestry.
This was the best and most important (excepting the first one) birthday I’ve experienced. I felt fully loved and protected by those around me and the many generations before.
Our weekly park group was messy today. Only our core families showed up, but the kids were happy to have all of Iron Hill Park to themselves.
Sausages, hot dogs, and marshmallows on the fire were an added bonus.
Although they ran hard, my sons went on to attend trumpet and jiu-jitsu lessons later in the afternoon.
We had a successful day catching up on weekend messages, booking clients, and creating art…until a snag.
Now, instead of blogging, I’m tracking down an email bug that has our main communication medium frozen.
For now, enjoy the initial peony additions (double line cleanup to come) Kristen worked on today:
I have been running into more negative opinions on home education lately.
This lifestyle has been too good to us and I feel a responsibility to take apart uneducated attacks on homeschooling.
Following is a social media attack and my response (I get a little hot).
“Specialized instruction or accomodations”? This is the super power of home education. Schools are based on homogenized patterns. Parents in a home education environment spend all of their efforts on specializing the learning environment for their children.
Socialization:
I co-created an in-person homeschool group in 2020. We welcomed families of all educational stripes. Many of those were schooled and had been abandoned by not just school, but every institution. Their social lives were destroyed and no one cared. We created a social community that has grown to over 1,000 local families. We have met every week for four years and many other groups, clubs, field trips, and extracurricular activities have been born out of ours.
Our families create voluntary bonds, our children are not forced to “socialize” with each other nine months out of the year. School unnaturally silos children into narrow age groups. No where in life does this happen. Our children socialize across generations, including more time to spend with grandparents (my boys have learned about London during the Blitzkrieg from eyewitnesses).
Mental health? What’s the suicide rate doing in schools? My boys just had a government schooled friend, a fucking child, kill himself. That system needs to be dissected and examined for all the medications being pushed by mediocre teachers and nurses.
You are clearly uneducated on how children learn. I did not “teach” my first son how to read after first grade. I never taught my second son. The younger is now 13 years old and burns through books. Curricula are an invention of a system that ignores individuality. Children have curious minds. All one needs to do is pay close attention and feed that curiosity.
Your vitriol betrays an ignorance concerning home education. School has taught you to mock what you don’t understand: if it isn’t on the test, it isn’t important. Your teachers failed you.
American corporate media is the greatest supporter of the American Empire. It pushes every war and never questions, “Are we the bad guys?”
Omar Suleiman reports on events in Palestine that are being ignored by major news outlets in this important interview:
