The Steadfast House in Seattle

After a long hiatus from posting I'm looking forward to contributing some more.

A piece in the New York Times today informs us Edith Macefield's "Steadfast" house in Seattle looks like it will be torn down soon.
If you are interested in the story 99% Invisible did a fantastic podcast on the house last September.
The podcast has interesting details on Macefield's life, and her relationship with the construction superintendent, Barry Martin, who, while building the building around her, took care of her and eventually inherited the house.

While your at it, subscribe to 99%Invisible.  Its amazing.

ALSO check out China's Nail Houses in the Guardian:

The Longest Shortest Time

Sleep and other traumas of being a new parent. 

I’m thinking of my friends Elizabeth and Alan who had their first child a few months ago.  And I am trying to recall what life was like when Antonia was that age.  I remember being astounded at the number of people with children only a few years older than Antonia who could barely recall the details of specific ages or their own parenting traumas.  Now I too am having trouble with the specifics of our experience. With Antonia well past two years old we find ourselves emerging from the initial shock and awe of the first years of parenthood. Now I think I might have the perspective to remember not only what was happening, but also why I’m likely to forget all but the most vivid of details any day now. 

One example comes to mind. When Antonia was five month old we were living in Los Angeles and we took a long trip to visit friends in New York. Antonia was having an incredibly hard time sleeping.  She has often fought the urge to sleep, but this was the worst we had experienced, and remains the single worst episode of sleep trouble to date.  We were traumatized by a child who would not nap, could not be consoled by our presence in the room, and would often only sleep if we walked her around in the stroller.  For Allison and I it was devastating.  We were questioning everything about what we were doing as parents, and everything we had done to that point.  We tried everything, read all the books searched all the websites. Nothing was working. 

While we were going thru this I remember asking our friends Kirsten and David about how they dealt both of their son’s sleep at that age. As usual they had insightful thoughts, but they were remarkably shy on the details.  I was shocked.  They must have had at least a few moments of similar trauma.  Why couldn’t they remember how they got thru the difficult periods that at the moment seemed to be being seared into my memory.

Now I can already feel myself forgetting the details. The sensation of complete terror that we were doing something totally wrong seems to be disappearing as our family drives past the quaint dirt road of those first months where we started our journey and we begin to see the larger terrain of mountains and plateaus we are ascending and descending.  The initial excitement that reveals each discrete detail of every turn and bump at the beginning a long road trip have now disappeared into the overall terrain.  The inevitable pothole is now is recognized as the passing hiccup that will ultimatly be navigated.  But in those initial moments the very real sense is that each dip is a much bigger deal than it is, each flat tire an epic crisis. 

Of course none of this does anything to provide the parent in that crisis moment with specifics.  And if we’ve learned anything it is that specifics are just that, peculiar to one child’s situation, and her parents ingenuity, and surprisingly useless to others.  It turns out that none of those books you can read about raising kids are about YOUR child. The big lesson is: do what it takes, don’t hurt yourself or your child, and rest (if you can) easy in the knowledge that it will all blur into a much more epic journey remarkably quickly.

Preschool Little Data - Bicoastal Style

Last fall we knew there was a chance we would be moving back to New York over the summer. We knew Antonia would need a preschool to go to in the fall. But there were enough balls in the air that the move east was not definite. It became apparent that we had to find preschools in both New York and Los Angeles at the same time!  That search not only yielded a school for Antonia to go to this fall, but also had a bi-product that we feel is worth sharing.

We hadn't lived in New York for 2 years and we had missed all the conversations with our friends about their school experiences. In LA we were having the normal conversations with other parents in the same boat, but our conversations were brief and limited. Our network in LA was in its infancy. One highly touted book for Los Angeles proved a disappointment, covering just over 40 schools in the entire city (we found over 40 in our area alone...)

In order to wrap our heads around the options (and the various dates and cutoff ages) we needed to do some research. As a result we created 2 Google spreadsheets with as many options as we could find within a reasonable distance from our homes in both cities.

Perhaps a little obsessive, maybe a little type-A, whatever the provenance, it became clear that NOBODY should have to do the same research. So I have scrubbed the spreadsheets of our personal information, made them public, and have handed over editing capabilities to new parents in both cities.

The lists are currently limited to the areas we were considering, but could easily be expanded. In New York we searched around our place in Williamsburg: downtown to north Brooklyn and some Manhattan options, mostly near 14th street (with some exceptions largely for comparison)

In Los Angeles we looked around Korea town, Los Feliz, Silvelake, Glendale, Echo Park, Eagle Rock and Pasadena.

Here they are:

New York

and
Los Angeles

Rather than include thoughts and commentary, a comprehensive list with as many facts as possible seems better than getting into the murky territory of endorsements and reviews.  Most people know what they are looking for.

Please feel free to share the lists, and if you know a good person (new parent) to contribute to it, please recommend them. If there are any programmers who want to turn this into some kind of Wiki database, even better!  

Great Site For Kids Stuff

I just discovered a great baby stuff review site: The Nightlight from the creators of Sweethome.  Created by a brother and sister team.

A review of crib mattresses has a good discussion of phthalates and has several options.

They are not actually a sister site of The Wirecutter, but apparently the founders are friends.

One year Ago

On this sad anniversary a little bit of tradition. After the death of our father Allison told me about the Jewish tradition of the Yahrzeit Candle.

Simply; it is a candle that is lit on the anniversary of a loved ones death. It burns for 24 hours. I have grown to appreciate its simplicity.  Judaism seems to get many of these emotional markers right: sitting shiva, burying the dead quickly, and of course, Passover: who can deny the power of telling stories over a long dinner? All these traditions, while often rooted in practicality or scripture, seem to me more emotionally useful than most other religious observances I have encountered. 

In retrospect I feel like we waited a little too long to hold a service for our father.  At the time it seemed practical to wait for the end of summer so everyone would have a chance to be there for the event.  But there is an emotionally sound case to be made, however jarring the circumstances, for diving into the grieving process all at once.  Perhaps religions, like people, get more stuff right the older they are.

So, in the tradition of borrowing whatever works, I light a candle in memory of Caroline, her family in San Francisco is doing the same. Thanks Allison.

Here is Dennis' lovely obituary that appeared that week:

Caroline Anna Jones, age 40, died peacefully on Thursday, April 4th, in San Francisco after a courageous two year battle with brain cancer.  Caroline was  born November 22, 1972 in New York City, daughter of the late Antony Winslow Jones and Magda Rydlo Jones.  She attended the Brearley School in Manhattan, then earned degrees in Art History and Anthropology from Connecticut College in 1994.  Caroline moved to San Francisco where she married Devon Earl Brian Boyle in 2002. She worked in artistic development for the San Francisco School of Circus Arts until the birth of her daughters Charlotte in 2004 and Eloise in 2008.  She was a volunteer and board member of the Little People of America. Her sense of humor, forgiving manner, intelligence, and enthusiasm inspired everyone whose life she touched. Caroline is survived by her mother Magda, her brother Adrian, sister-in-law Allison, niece Antonia, husband Devon, and daughters Charlotte and Eloise.  Services will be held in New York on April 13th and in San Francisco on April 27th.  The family has requested that donations be made to the Little People of America in lieu of flowers.

Blogs we like: SWEETHOME & WIRECUTTER

A quick link to a great website Caroline would have loved.

SWEETHOME Is a great review website.
I know because they love both her toaster and blender.
Here's a great review of an awesome utility knife, The Milwaukee Fastback II.
Their sister site: THE WIRECUTTER is great for electronics.

Roger Angell, Spike Jonze, & Gotye

A beautiful piece by Roger Angell in this week's New Yorker about aging and mortality got me thinking about several recent experiences related to loss.  It reminded me of a video that Devon shared recently by Gotye, Somebody That I used To Know, and of my response to Spike Jonze’s new film "Her".  While Angell’s piece is a much deeper meditation on the nature of aging and true mortality, all three are ultimately about loneliness and melancholy, a subject largely avoided by most of our society today. I find myself attracted to all three

Angell, whose son, John Henry, is a dear friend, and his wife Carol was a teacher of Caroline's at Brearley, recently suffered tremendous loss, Carol, his daughter Callie and their dog Harry all died in relatively quick succession.  In the piece he describes of one of the surprises one experiences after suffering so much loss:

  "We geezers carry about a bulging directory of dead husbands or wives, children, parents, lovers, brothers and sisters, dentists and shrinks, office sidekicks, summer neighbors, classmates, and bosses, all once entirely familiar to us and seen as part of the safe landscape of the day. It’s no wonder we’re a bit bent. The surprise, for me, is that the accruing weight of these departures doesn’t bury us, and that even the pain of an almost unbearable loss gives way quite quickly to something more distant but still stubbornly gleaming."

Angell continues later that one of the biggest surprises of life is:

"Getting old is the second-biggest surprise of my life, but the first, by a mile, is our unceasing need for deep attachment and intimate love. We oldies yearn daily and hourly for conversation and a renewed domesticity, for company at the movies or while visiting a museum, for someone close by in the car when coming home at night."

Here is what Angell's piece shares with both the Gotye video and "Her".  All three pieces are about longing for contact with a loved ones.  "Her" is a problematic film for the very reason that it is compelling. It is about an ultimately un satisfying relationship with a computer. Jonze is one of a small handfull of popular directors who are willing to wade into loss in this way. Perhaps not coincidentally another video director, Michel Gondry, is among those who are well versed in the language of loneliness. The Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind is perhaps the ultimate breakup film.  Maybe it is telling that film makers that come from a music background are the most comfortable with loss and heartbreak, an area where music has always been at ease.

Yet even in the seemingly loss-comfortable music world, the Gotye video stands out as an unusually powerful example. The video depicts the lead singer Wouter De Backer

standing naked singing and being painted in stop motion, as the camera passes over G-rated parts of his body.

The video is notable not only for its elegantly simple production, but also for the response it garnered.  I read several of the comments and was struck by number of people disgusted by the idea (that's all it was) that he was naked. It was as if they were so afraid of the real versions of their bodies that even the thought of nakedness was offensive. More than likely these very same people are completely comfortable with a tanned body in a swimming pool selling perfume.

Which ultimately just made me want to yell at them and ask if they have ever actually looked at themselves in the mirror. "Are you aware that this body is all you've got? That is the body you'll die in? That one day some kind person at a funeral home will hold and wash the body you are looking at, and it's not going to look like that person in the perfume ad!"

Angell begins his piece describing all the many notable physical attributes that accompany his age. It made me wonder, if we all took a similarly long look in the mirror once in a while, perhaps we would become a little more comfortable with our own frailty and mortality. Maybe we'd also become a little better at the vulnerability that's a needed for the intimacy we crave.