Photo Story

Juliet loved hiking in Nash Stream State Forest, NH.

Her connection with nature allows her to have long conversations with little strawberry men

and even sleep through entire hikes up Skinner Mountain, MA.

She was happy when she woke up because we told her we bought her a house...that needed a LOT of work.

And we luckily have had a LOT of help. Thank you Mom, Dad, Jay, Dianne & Andy!

All that work sure musters up some serious appetites. Juliet is our centerpiece.

Our days are set to a pretty amazing soundtrack. Juliet listens intently to Grandpa Joe play guitar and Grandma Kay sing songs.

We took a break in the Adirondacks and cuddled.

Sometimes you need to admire the view (see the Adirondack story below).

Peace.

3 months old

Uncle Tully & Juliet hanging out in a cabin on Rainbow Lake, NY (Adirondaks)

Juliet's Great Aunt Liz came from Colorado to kayak to this spot to take this photo

Juliet listens to Grandpa David play some funky tunes on the clarinet

Juliet snuggles with Grandma Patty

Hikers enjoying Autumn in the Adirondaks

Juliet discovers boardwalks, northern forests, tamarac trees

The whole leaf-peeping crew poses

Big tree-hugger and baby tree-hugger tree hug

Check out our new pad

Our first house! We live in Massachusetts

Becoming Northerners Again

It was a hectic move from Richmond to Massachusetts with a new baby and all, but thank god for David, Tully, and Bob who flew from Buffalo to help Damien load our entire apartment into a Penske truck and drive it and one of our cars to Mass. I was entirely useless and they took good care of me, and I thank those guys with all of my heart, muscles, and sanity. So here we are staying with my folks during this transition period of our lives in Agawam, and the new grandparents are certainly enjoying the little sweet pea while we are grateful to have a wonderful place to stay as we get situated. A week after we got here we drove up to Canada where a three-week old Juliet got to meet the Johnson side of her family for the annual family reunion on Wolfe (aka Mud) island. We had a beautiful few days with the Johnsons, Lisowskis, Skorges, and Wus. I did a lot of relaxing, eating, and mothering while everyone else was fishing, sailing, swimming, kayaking, cooking, biking, and adoring the baby all around me. It was a great time.
The Mud Island crew this year. What a bunch!

The boat builders: Norm, Ozzie, & David

Who you'll find in my arms.

Juliet meets her great grandmother.

Our blissful little triad.

Happy baby.
4 weeks old and all clean.

5 weeks old and thinking about things in the world.

Damien found class 3 whitewater here in MA...this is him paddling Zoar Gap on the Deerfield River! He starts his new job in a week as a freshman English teacher at West Springfield High School...

Juliet: The Love of Our Lives

Introducing Juliet Schlaffer Johnson

Juliet Schlaffer Johnson is here and she is breathtaking. No usual blogger, I am writing on Erica’s behalf while she recovers and takes care of our sweet daughter. Having borne witness to a beautiful but very long labor, I can state emphatically that there is no power like that of a woman set to give birth. So here is how it happened. Erica was almost 2 weeks overdue when she took the advice of our midwife and consumed more than a healthy dose of castor oil (no worries, it’s not the stuff you put in your car) to inspire labor. Her contractions started on Tuesday and lasted for about 8 hours. I guess we were up until about midnight before we fell asleep. If you have been through this than you know that a laboring woman doesn’t go to sleep. So our excitement ebbed with her contractions. But by 1 or 2 on Wednesday we were back in action, and (I don’t want to give away the ending here but I think you can look at the pictures and guess at it) we weren’t going to get any sleep until midday on Friday. Erica’s contractions were intense but with a great support team, a candle lit bath and a couple of pots of coffee, we managed to stay at home for a long time. We arrived at the hospital on Thursday morning, bleary eyed and exhausted and a tiny bit scared and excited as hell to find out that she was already 5 cm dilated (that’s half way for all the rookies out there). And that was good news. By 1 in the afternoon she was 7 cm dilated. By 5 she was 6 cm. Now I’m not the mathy-est person, but I can tell you that was a bit scary. So let me back up a bit… I think I’ve already said that there is no strength like that of a woman in labor. Erica went 40 hours without so much as a Tylenol. She had an incredible support team: her doula, her midwife, a nurse who massaged her feet and held her like a baby through some of the toughest contractions (do most nurses do that?) her mother (picture here a mamma bear protecting her cub) and me. All were brave as hell and we all fought with her. Erica was so beautiful and so exhausted and if she slept at all she slept for seconds at a time between contractions and only 2 or 3 times. We tried to be there for her and we told her to keep going but I have to tell you what really happened: we were carried by her strength and we all kept going because she kept going. So you can imagine, if you are still reading this, that we were all distressed by the fact that she had regressed from 7 to 6 cm. This is the part where those of us who spurn the whimsical use of drugs look toward God and thank heaven for the anesthesiologist with the epidural. This is the part we weren’t aloud to watch (presumably because the needle was soooooo long). This is the part where the hospital sends a doctor who reminds you that they are watching and that they cannot allow this poor woman to suffer much longer before they will require a Caesarean birth. The next two hours were scary. But they were also very productive. The epidural relaxed her cervix enough that she was able to have her baby. Gladly, it also wore off before it was time to push, so that she could feel her contractions again. What follows… well, you either know already, or you need to experience it for yourself. But I can tell you that I have been around the world and I have loved every second of it and I have never seen anything as beautiful as our little girl (see attached photos) take her first worldly breath into Erica’s chest as she cried out for her. We are the proud parents of a beautiful little girl. The first born to my family in 55 years. The first grandchild on either side. Like her mother, she is peaceful and beautiful. It feels good to fall madly in love so quickly.

Born: July 11th 1:14 am

8 Lbs 6.4 oz.

19.7 inches long

Summer Solstice

Find out why these fine people are jumping (and why I'm not) http://www.jumpbecause.com/
And heck you should jump for something. because.
Paddling the lower James River: Brian, Gerry, Jenny, Damien, & Mandy

Damien navigates down Hollywood rapid

May & June

After turning 30 at the beginning of May and seeing the world through a perspective of new-found wisdom, I realized with more certainty to enjoy every possible moment of my life. So as the mid-atlantic states transition from Spring to Summer, and my belly keeps on growing (so very parallel to the earth) we've been enjoying ourselves immensly. We took a wonderful trip to Back Bay National Wildlife Refuge and enjoyed the pristine beach for a day.

Damien saved a very un-shy turtle from the road.

We had a lovely long weekend in the mountains of West Virginia with a crew of rad people. Here is a picture of Dana and Chris enjoying the view from Matt & Peter's cabin while the others sun themselves on the dock of their pond.

Here I am at 8 months along. As of today, there are exactly three weeks left until my proposed due date! It's been an amazing experience. Truly profound. We don't know the gender, yet everyone tells me it looks like I'm having a boy. Who knows?! I am really starting to get excited to meet the little bambino in there! My girlfriend Tracy had a beautiful baby girl named Abigail in May. Congratulations! I'll keep y'all posted as things progress!

The Freedom Writers

Here is a handful of my students who wrote their own Freedom Writer's diaries about their lives. It was inspired by the group in California who did the same thing, not only to express themselves, but also to overcome stereotypes and prejudice. They really had some amazing stories to tell and did an amazing job on their projects. You can see here what my classroom looks like. I will only inhabit that space for just over a week more... the school year has come to an end and I will sadly not be working there again next year because we are moving!

Reflections

Memorial

When we went to NY to mourn and celebrate the lives of my grandparents, I got to spend some quality time with my aunties (all who are from my mom's side, but still knew and loved Jane & Joe and came to support us THANK YOU!). Here you see aunts: Cynthia, Dianne, Tina, and Katherine. It was so wonderful to be together.

Here are the 2 poems I read at the memorial service. "The Gardener" is quite old and "The Machinist" is new.

The Gardener

Grandma bends in the garden, emerged in her leafy green world.
With her hands she nurtures and loves the soil
in the way that she loved her children: my father, my uncles, grown, rooted.
She still flows through them, and teaches them how the seasons illustrate their days.
The veins in her fingers are life lines to the Elephant Ears and bean leaves,
the arteries from her heart give rise to the tomato seedlings.
Grandma’s gift to make things grow shows us how to grow.
Her life teaches us how to love the earth, how to love each other.
And while lines of time echo in her face, they give me a sense of expression,
her unique sparkle that I hope I someday know.

Like a single leaf reveals a map of the anatomy of rainforests and rivers,
like a solitary flower divulges the secrets of the migration of birds,
I look at my hands and I know she is in me too-
her fiery soul at peace in the garden.


The Machinist

My grandfather, with his larger-than-Thor hands
could make the tiniest parts whir miraculously.

His palms, wide like Lake Victoria. His Nile digits, long,
constructed like a hand should be, with substance and authority.
His were hands of the gods, appearing almost cumbersome
and surprising everyone with their grace and fluidity.
They could manipulate the most intricate pieces and
unfathomable tools, utensils for elves.
He could give metal bits and bolts purpose.
He could make sprockets and washers part of something
grander than what they were when they were alone.
He could give them life.

The machinist with the Saharan fingerprints
made my head so small when he held my face.
With the moons in his fingernails he could hold the universe.
He held his family and showed us that we too were
something grander together than when we were alone.

When he died we gathered all the little bits of his life we could find.
I’m putting them together like a machinist.
And the love interwoven in every piece, in each detailed moment,
is whirring miraculously.

Erica Schlaffer