Wednesday, December 31, 2014

A Resolution Revolution

Like all of you other suckers, I've often been guilty of making New Year's resolutions on December 31. And like 92% percent of the population, each and every time, I've failed miserably within the first 31 days of each new year.

My attempts at past resolutions have included more exercise, less eating, more reading, less cursing, more sleeping, and countless other pipe dreams I cannot recall. You probably have a list of similar good intentions.

Maybe, just maybe, you've even been an 8-percenter and succeeded at keeping a resolution or two.

And if you are among those strong-willed and committed few who eat carrot sticks, love to sweat, regularly expand your vocabulary, are positive role models for your kids, and get 10 hours a night ... well, then, as we say in the South:

Bless your heart.

I, on the other hand, wised up a few years back and began making the only resolution I have ever kept. Actually, I have made it every year since, and I've been able to keep it year in and year out with hardly any effort at all.

My New Year's Resolution is to not make any resolutions.

See how easy that is?

But all kidding aside, as I was eating some kale chips and working out on the elliptical earlier today (while simultaneously reading the new novel I just downloaded), I began to think about the year ahead.

I may be anti-resolution, but that doesn't mean I can't aspire to live my life better in 2015 than I did in 2014.

And that's when I thought about my late father-in-law, Jack Rogers.

Jack, who passed away suddenly in March 2003 at the much-too-young age of 53, was full of life and had an enormous personality.

One of my best memories of him was when he would recite his "Three Rules to Live By."

I can picture him now, animated, emphatic, and dramatic in his delivery:

Jack's Three Rules to Live By

1) Anybody can do anything.

2) Everybody does exactly what they want to do.

3) If you don't get what you want, it's your own damn fault.

Jack's "Three Rules" may not "resolutions" per se.

You may or may not agree with them.

And you may or may not see the same beauty in these rules that I do.

Jack holding LJ, December 2002
They are simple and truthful, and they cut straight to the point. They offer no room for excuses. How you live your life is up to you and no one else.

As the clock strikes midnight and the book closes on 2014, I will -- once again -- stand firm in my resolution revolution. I will not be promising to do anything I know will fall by the wayside before the new calendar even turns to February.

I will, however, be thinking about Jack's Three Rules.

And when things get tough in 2015 and I want to make excuses for why something won't work or why I 'can't,' I will do my best to keep his words in the forefront of my mind.

I will begin my New Year by raising my champagne glass in toast to Jack and his Three Rules, and just as he used to say, I'll be doing exactly what I want to do.

Friday, December 26, 2014

2014: A Year of Surprises

We stopped sending Christmas cards a few years ago. It's not that we don't enjoy receiving them from others, because we do. In fact, we have a nice little Christmas card display thingy that we hang in a prominent place every December. So why did we stop doing them? I'm not sure I have a good answer or excuse, so I won't offer one.

Instead, I offer this "year in review" of sorts. Think of it as our Christmas card in blog form.

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If I had to choose a theme for the Rogers family in 2014, I think it's best described as A Year of Surprises. Some were good -- some not so much -- but in the end, we were constantly on our toes, and found ourselves to be pretty adaptable no matter what life threw at us.

FEBRUARY -- We're Moving (Again)

I suppose it's a good thing we decided to ask.

On a whim in late February, we emailed the property management company for our rental home in Tampa. We wanted to make sure we could re-sign our lease and stay in the home for another year. The family who owned the house was living in South Africa, and as far as we knew (and had been told several times), they wouldn't be returning to the U.S. for at least another year.

Like I said, it's a good thing we asked. 

We received a prompt response that, no, we could not re-sign the lease because the owners would be moving back into the house on July 1.

SURPRISE!

Just 8 months after moving to Tampa, we'd be moving again. Good thing we never got around to unpacking all those boxes.

With Jack headed out of town for three weeks, we had to act quickly. Although finding another rental probably would have made the most sense (we still own our home in Raleigh), I couldn't bear the thought of moving again only to feel "unsettled." So we decided to buy.

Our new home in Tampa
Our real estate agent went into hyperdrive and within 24 hours had lined up six showings in one of our target neighborhoods. The only problem was that, the same day we found out we had to move, I had oral surgery. The surgery in itself was no big deal -- but the reaction I had to the post-op antibiotics? That was ugly.

The accompanying nausea was so bad, in fact, that en route to one of the houses, Jack had to pull over at a busy intersection so I could jump out of the car and puke. Not one of my finer moments.

At each and every house we toured, the story was the same. I would tell our agent and Jack to go ahead of me while I stood in the front yard and threw up.

I just hope none of our new neighbors witnessed it.

MAY -- Two Houses, No Water

For those of you not familiar with Florida's west coast weather, let me acquaint you. The month of May can be hot. May can be sticky. May can be nasty. May in Tampa can remind you of an armpit.

And the weekend we moved into our new house, Tampa was doing its very best imitation of an armpit.

With temperatures and humidity high, so was our stress level. And it didn't help that to save money, we had decided to move everything ourselves -- everything but the very heaviest furniture pieces.

It was slow, arduous work, but we muddled through. By dinner time on the first day of our move weekend, we were making great progress. We stopped to order pizza for dinner, and as I stood in the office and looked out the window adjacent to Jack's desk, I noticed a steady stream of water pouring down the driveway.

Huh.

I raced out to the garage to find the hot water heater spewing water everywhere -- including all over our not-yet-loaded boxes and furniture.

SURPRISE!

Now Jack and I were the ones going into hyperdrive, desperately trying to locate the water shut-off valve. And because it was a rental home and we'd never thought to ask, we had no idea where it was. After 20 minutes or so, we finally found it. But a call to our property manager, and then to their plumber, revealed the earliest the water heater could be replaced was Monday -- if we were lucky.

Water, water everywhere, but not a drop to drink at our new house.
No big deal, we thought. It's so hot outside we can make do with cold water, we thought. Until we realized that all the faucets in the house were both cold and hot, meaning they didn't work at all.

No water.

Again, no big deal, we thought -- we already closed on our new house. We'll just shower and cook over there. Until we realized the county screwed up and shut off our water instead of transferring it to our account.

So we had two houses but no water. And it was Friday night. There would be no water until Monday.

So how did we get by for the next three days?

Showers at the gym. 

Eating out instead of cooking. 

Dogs drinking Perrier.

Just like we planned it.

JUNE-- Adventures in the Amazon

Although I never finished posting all of my journal entries from our week-long trip to the Peruvian Amazon, it is pretty well documented here on my blog -- both in words and pictures.

Jack with village children in El Chino, Peru
Certainly, the trip to the Amazon was not a surprise -- we booked it the previous October and knew well in advance what we were getting into (sort of).

The SURPRISE! in this case was that we actually went through with it. All four of us.

And we didn't get eaten by a giant anaconda.

Or stung by a bullet ant.

And we not only survived it, but we absolutely loved it.

We joked on the way home from Peru that any family vacation we take in the future will be incredibly boring by comparison -- and it's true.

LJ on the canopy zipline in the Peruvian Amazon jungle.
On how many vacations do you zipline through the a jungle canopy; swim in the Amazon surrounded by pink dolphins; fish for (and then eat) piranha; canoe through nearly impassable river ways surrounded by monkeys, sloths, and tropical birds; and hike through a forest so dense you can't even see the jaguars who are watching you?

A few days ago I asked Julianna to tell me the highlight of her year and she didn't hesitate with her answer.

"Well, duh," she said. "Our trip to Peru."

Duh, indeed.

SEPTEMBER -- The Marriott Miracle

One bonus to living in Tampa is that we have three NFL teams in Florida. That is, of course, if you count our hometown Suckaneers as an actual professional football team. (They are 2-13 as I write this).

As a side note (or rant) ... in the two years we have been Bucs' season-ticket holders, I have seen the team win in our home stadium exactly 1 time. Yes, once. In two years. And that's why we call them the Suckaneers.

Luckily, the not-much-better-than-the-Bucs Jacksonville Jaguars play just 3 hours from where we live. Why is that good? Because they happen to be in the same division as our beloved Indianapolis Colts. And that means, at least once a year, the Colts come to Florida.

LJ at the Colts-Jags game
For the second straight year we bought tickets to the Jags-Colts game. And for the second straight year, we randomly chose a hotel that wasn't too far from the stadium and where we could also use our hotel points and not have to actually pay for the rooms.

When we arrived at the hotel, the place was buzzing. There were lots of people lingering in the lobby. There were temporary black drapes hanging in front of the elevator vestibule. There were security guards sitting near the hallway.

The hotel was so busy, in fact, that we were told there was no way we could get two rooms that connected to each other.

When we pressed for a reason, we were told that the hotel was completely full. There was a wedding happening on site, and there were people in town for the Jags game (like us), and there was also a football team staying at the hotel.

"Which football team," we asked?

"The University of Pennsylvania," the desk clerk said.

I became suspicious. The guys milling around the lobby were way bigger than most college players I knew. And they were certainly a lot bigger than the guys who would play at a Ivy League school like Penn.

These were ginormous, massive human beings. Absolute beasts.

And I was pretty certain that not a single one of them suited up for the mighty Penn Quakers.

Then I noticed a local news guy with a TV camera.

Curious.

Then, some teenage boys asking one of the players to autograph a helmet.

A Colts helmet.

More curious.

Julianna, who was done with all the speculation, decided to take matters into her own hands.

She marched confidently up to one of the players, looked him in the eye, and said, "Excuse me, but do you play for the Indianapolis Colts?"

Julianna and Colts' Head Coach Chuck Pagano
The side of the player's mouth curled into a smirk, and he just nodded his headed up and down slowly.

Julianna stood there, staring at him, mouth agape, and said, "Uh, okay."

SURPRISE!

We had inadvertently chosen the same hotel as the Indianapolis Colts. Who knew they would stay at an unassuming Marriott in an office park just off the highway?

During our brief stay at the hotel, the kids were able to say hello to future Hall of Fame kicker Adam Vinatieri, get a glimpse of Andrew Luck, and even pose for a photo with Head Coach Chuck Pagano.

Oh, and incidentally, the player Julianna questioned in the lobby? That was the starting running back, Trent Richardson.

Best of all, the Colts won big over the Jags, 44-17.

At least a good team plays in Florida once a year.

DECEMBER - Beneath the Surface

In September I had a small spot on my face biopsied. Really, it looked just like a tiny red patch of dry skin on the side of my nose. But the results came back positive for two different types of skin cancer -- basal cell and squamous cell -- and combined they are known as a rare type of cancer called basosquamous.

SURPRISE!

Thanksgiving dinner, pre-surgery
Without going into too much detail, I'll give a quick update of where things stand now. Fortunately, the cancer did not metastasize. And in early December I had two surgeries -- one to remove the cancer, and another to graft skin to fill in the giant hole the cancer left on my face.

The good news is that, although I am probably months away from looking "normal" and going outside without a band-aid over my face, I will be fine.

We've done our best to face this with humor (no pun intended). My Christmas gifts included some fashionable Colts band-aids to cover my wound.

And as LJ so eloquently put it before the surgery, "Mom, this is one time you really DO need a hole in your head."

Touche.


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The events recapped here are just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to an eventful year for our family.

There have been plenty of highs, a few lows, and clearly, lots of surprises.

Here's wishing you and your family a wonderful New Year in 2015 -- one filled with love, laughter, and surprises -- but hopefully only the good kind.

Tuesday, July 29, 2014

But What About Me?

Now that LJ is a teenager, I never know what to expect when it comes to conversation.

Many days, our only interactions consist of him rolling his eyes at me and taking deep, exaggerated, annoyed sighs.

Okay, maybe we both do that.

LJ tells me that I nag him too much (hence the eye rolling and deep breathing), so I have begun to tread lightly when it comes to poking and prodding him about the details of his mundane day-to-day activities.

As we navigate "the drama years" of teenage-hood, LJ and I seem to have come to an understanding: if he's awake by noon, wears deodorant, and does most of his homework, I should not ask questions and just stay the heck out of the way.

This arrangement seems to be working quite well for us.

But today, as I picked LJ up from his Javascript programming camp, I was feeling curious. I was feeling brazen.  I was feeling ... well, maybe I was feeling the three cups of coffee I had during my staff meeting.

Whatever the reason for my feelings, I decided to throw caution to the wind and ask LJ the always combative and often controversial question ...

"How was your day?"

I braced for impact. And eye rolls. And deep, exaggerated, annoyed sighs.

Instead, I got a flurry of excited, non-stop words. Actual words that didn't include, "Go away" or "close the door behind you."

Instead, LJ preceded to gush about how awesome his camp counselors were, and how they were going to personalize the next day's lesson just for him.

When I asked LJ to explain what he meant, he said that much of the camp's curriculum was centered on self-directed web-based learning. LJ knows that passively watching something on a computer screen is not how he learns best -- he learns by doing and prefers to have a "guide on the side" to lead him down the correct path.

LJ told his counselors about his learning preferences and, lo-and-behold, they responded by saying they would tweak their program to make sure he was getting what he needed.

*******

The parent in me was thrilled to hear that LJ is enjoying camp and that his counselors are making sure he has a positive experience.

But the school administrator in me began to consider the greater meaning to LJ's interactions with his counselors.

LJ has been fortunate to attend two schools (Ravenscroft and Academy at the Lakes), that encourage students to advocate for themselves and recognize that each student has a unique learning style.

But what if all schools (and all classrooms) looked like this? What if all students were empowered to say, "That's not how I learn best."

And what if all teachers, classrooms, and schools were equipped to answer, "Then let's do it your way."

What if? 

What could learning look like? Especially for the students -- like LJ -- who know themselves well enough to articulate that they don't learn by staring at a screen or a whiteboard?

What if all students like LJ could do, touch, and feel their way through their educational journeys?

What if?

*******

I realize that this is a meta-existential-uber-level hypothetical question with no real answer.

But as a parent and as a someone with a passion for education, it sure is fun to consider and dream what it could look like for our students.

Just imagine if more students weren't moved to roll their eyes, or take deep, exaggerated, annoyed breaths when we asked them to learn in a way that fits like a square peg in a round hole.

Just imagine if all students never had to ask the question, "But what about me?" 

Sunday, June 22, 2014

Amazon Adventure: Day 3 - On Top of the World


Today is the day LJ has been waiting for -- we're heading to the canopy zip line.

Given that it was named by Fox News as one of the Top 15 Craziest Zip Lines in the World, I have some pretty high expectations. (No pun intended).

We load into canoes and begin the 20 minute trek through the dense rainforest that lies behind the Tahuayo Lodge. 

We are visiting right at the end of the Amazon's wet season. As the dry season begins, the water level of the river will drop rapidly -- so much so that Cesar tells us that in just a few days, the water we are now canoeing in will be replaced by mud.

*******

The zip line platforms tower over us. In fact, I can barely see the top, which is more than 100 feet in the air.
LJ on his way up to the canopy zip line platform

Using their bare hands, our guides work a pulley system to hoist us, one by one, above the rainforest. It's exhausting work for them, I am sure. There are nine of us in the group and three guides take turns with the pulley.

Once atop the platform, the view is incredible. It gives me an entirely different perspective of the canopy, its birds, and yes, its flying, buzzing insects. 

LJ wants to be the first across the zip line -- and nobody stops him. I'm content to be the last one through the course. I figure that if the other eight group members make it across without the line snapping, chances are pretty good that I'll make it too.

It's my turn now, and our guide, Samuel, urges me, Vamos!

But I'm frozen. Even though I've been zip lining before, I'm mentally stuck.
The view from the top

This course is so high, so remote, I just can't will myself to move.

I take a few deep breaths and remind myself what Cesar told us when we first arrived at the zip line. Each year, engineers are brought here from the U.S. to check the safety of the course. Because the trees (which serve as the anchors for the zip lines), are under water for about half the year, they must be checked with regularity.

I survey my options and figure I don't have much of a choice. After all, I'm 100 feet in the air and attached to a rope, a harness, a steel wire, and a couple of carabiners. 

I don't really see any other way out.

I take a deep breath and decide to go for it.

Besides, if I chicken out now, LJ and Julianna will never let me live it down.


There's no turning back now

Saturday, June 21, 2014

Amazon Adventure: Day 2 - The Jungle Love Triangle


During our return trip from Terra Firma, I start to drift off. But I feel the boat coming to a stop so I open my eyes to find us pulling up to the river bank just opposite a small village.

Here, we are greeted not by Peruvian villagers, but instead by three very curious woolly monkeys.

These monkeys have names -- Durilla, Chepa, and Rocky. Durilla and Chepa are female. Rocky is the youngest, and he is male. Durilla, by far the largest of the three, scrambles down the trees toward the boat. But the driver immediately backs away, not wanting Durilla to get too close.
Papaya was very popular with Rocky

Instead, we maneuver to a 3x3 wooden platform hanging from one of the jungle trees. Nelly places several pieces of fresh fruit on the platform. Durilla swings over to scoop up the fruit and then disappears back into the trees.

We steer toward the low branch of a tree that juts out over the river. Nelly tries to entice Chepa with a juicy piece of papaya. Chepa is intrigued by the offering, as is Rocky, but neither takes the bait.

Instead, Durilla comes scampering back through the trees, once again eager to socialize with our group.

As before, the driver instantly backs the boat into the river and away from Durilla.

*******

At a gathering prior to our Amazon trip, I recall Dr. Paul Beaver, one of the co-owners of the lodge, talking about how a gorilla had recently bit one of the visitors. 

I remember being horrified at the thought ... what an enormous, painful bite that must have been! 

Never mind the fact that there are no gorillas in the Amazon basin. 

I didn't really think about that at the time. I was too focused on my fear of being attacked by a vicious, man-eating, 300-lb. beast. 

Think Outbreak, but with me and Jack standing in for Rene Russo and Dustin Hoffman.

*******
The monkeys were just as interested in us as we were in them.

Now, as we play this game of jungle hide-and-seek with Durilla, the woolly monkey, I begin to connect the dots. 

It was Durilla that bit someone. Not a gorilla.

Oh.

Well, that's a little less terrifying.

Nevertheless, we avoid Durilla and continue to try and lure Chepa to the boat.

But Chepa is still leery. Instead, she climbs to a branch about 20 feet above us and hangs from her tail. Nelly grabs a piece of orange and tosses it high in the air. Not missing a beat, Chepa stabs her paw into the air and snares the fruit.

She devours the fruit, discards the rind into the river, and waits for more.

Over and over again, Nelly tosses and Chepa catches.

I am endlessly entertained. 

When Nelly pitches the fruit too low and it splashes into the water, Chepa lets us know she is not pleased, unleashing a series of loud grunts. 

I suppose it's just her way of coaching Nelly to throw the fruit a bit higher ... a little monkey talk.

Apparently this game of catch has made Chepa feel a little more comfortable with all the strangers. She swings and jumps her way toward the river and then carefully shimmies down the low-hanging branch. 

And just like that, there's a monkey in the boat.

Chepa squats on the boat deck and finishes off the last of the papaya, and we humans take turns gently petting her back. She doesn't even seem to notice us.

*******

Up close and personal with the woolly monkeys
As we make our way back to the lodge, we learn that these three monkeys were once pets in a nearby jungle village. Despite what you may have seen on the TV show Friends, keeping a monkey as a pet is a bad idea.

After being rescued, Durilla, Chepa, and Rocky were rehabilitated and released back into the jungle. Durilla and Chepa lived together on their own for awhile. 

BFFs, I suppose. 

Recently, however, Rocky -- the lone male -- was introduced to the mix, and you can guess what happened next. 

Durilla, the eldest female, has become a bit territorial and aggressive -- which is likely why she took a bite out of the jungle tourist. Just staking her claim.

Figures.

Even in the Amazon jungle -- and even within a troop of monkeys -- three is a crowd. 

I guess you could call it a jungle love triangle.