Yesterday started the night before. We packed, and hemmed, and ironed, and organized. Collapsed into bed so late that when the alarm went of at 5:30AM, we resisted. But eventually we did pull ourselves up and into the day.

6:30AM We started for the car, although it took about 20 more minutes before we had finished running back into the house for "one more thing" and actually pulled out of the driveway.

7:00AM Bear dropped off at Elia's, we headed to Midway Airport for our flight to Boston.

8:00AM Midway security being the clusterfudge of all time, it took us over 45 minutes to get through the scan line. They were announcing our names over the loudspeaker as we scrambled to our gate.

[time change + 1 hour]

11:30AM It is a running joke in my family that I can't get a ride from Logan Airport. Today was no different. We caught the "Silver Line" - a bus that becomes a subway. We switched over to the red line to MIT (Kendall Square).

Met up with my mom and brother and we all grabbed a quick bite at the food court. It was easy just to chat, look through the most recent Bear pictures, and share a laugh and pretend that it was just another day.

But then it was time to head over to MIT's unique chapel for the service.

1:45PM The whole family gathered in an anteroom. The lovely obituaries mention 2 nephews and 1 niece. But families are more than common blood; marriages and children created 17 people who called this amazing man "Uncle Mike".

2PM We approached the chapel in pairs as a lone bagpiper stood in the dappled shade by the entrance and played the mourners in. It finally hit me why we were there.

Mike had attended MIT from undergraduate through doctorate and then returned to teach. The eulogists had pulled his school records going all the way back to the beginning. It was bittersweet to hear how he'd always been special, always been kind and smart, always been more interested in the questions than the answers.

Another of my uncles talked about Mike, the guy. The one who loved to laugh, who joined in on games of Rail Baron, loved crosswords and was always interested in the world.

Then my cell phone went off. It took 4 rings for me to silence it.

[insert several moments of embarressment here]

His co-workers talked about Mike's amazing teaching skills and genuine rapport and devotion to his students. One brought with him a book that contained the thousands of emails the school had received from all the people who'd heard of Mike's passing and had to reach out and tell someone how much Mike had meant to them.

Most of us count ourselves lucky if we have a pond of people whose lives we touch in any meaningful way.

Mike had a rushing, roaring river.

Mike was universally recognized for being an amazing teacher and advisor. He won the sardonic Big Screw Award, the prestigious Baker Award, and at one point he had won MIT's "Outstanding Faculty Member of the Year" for 10 years straight.

At the end of the memorial, it was announced that MIT was renaming that last award after Mike.

3PM We walked up 3 flights of stairs to the reception. A long dark-clad line of solemn faces past chattering students who watched us with curious eyes.

I pulled into a corner at one point to check my phone. It had been Elia. I quickly called back and discovered that there had been a misunderstanding about the child seat but Dee had taken care of it. As I was talking, I looked up and realized I was surrounded by a small crowd of family friends waiting express their sympathy.

We walked together into the large reception room. The food was amazing, but I couldn't taste it.

I put on what CD calls my "Chatty Cathy" persona - I was engaging and talkative and accessible.

I was miserable.

4:15PM With red eyes and wrenched hearts, a cousin, CD, & I grabbed a cab back to Logan. Windows down to the hot Boston sun, we looked out at the blue water and the brick apartment buildings as we rolled by.

5:30PM There's a Legal Seafood inside Boston's airport. As we sat down, my boss call my cell phone. I answered it long enough to tell him to go away.

Then the 3 of us ordered strong cocktails and ordered food and talked about how the rest of the family was doing. As if we were doing any better.

Well, after an hour or so, maybe we were.

[time change - 1 hour]

8:00PM We landed into the Chicago sunset. Last hugs and off to our car and home.

As we drove, CD talked about the tour Mike had given him and Bear of MIT last summer - before we knew Mike was sick. Before the end began.

They'd gone to Mike's classroom and office, had lunch in the cafeteria.

Mike told CD how there's an aisle at MIT called "the infinite corridor". In what has become a sort of ceremony ("MITHenge" [thanks, Kimberly!]), twice a year all the doors along the corridor are opened and people line the sides and then, just at the right moment, the sun will shine through from begining to end.

I would like to think that, somehow, from now on, whenever they throw open those doors, Mike's spirit will be there. Traveling the sunbeam along the rows of rapt students, teachers, and staff.

[I thought I'd done with tears, but I was wrong.]

We pulled into the driveway and Bear came racing from the backyard into my arms. As I held him tight, he whispered to me "Did you say goodbye to Uncle Mike?"

And I kissed him hard. "Not yet," I told him. "Not just yet."

Posted by: Elizabeth at 07:11 AM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
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I was responding in the comments, but it got so dang long....

First of all, let me say thank you for commenting and sharing your opinions. It's been a long day, but after reading what you had to say I think that maybe I was old-fashioned, and maybe I am too quick to judge.

But either way, I'll stand by the decision I made today. I believe it is inappropriate for caregivers to a) not pay attention to the children in their care and b) model behavior ("resting" in a horizontal position on a couch with a man or telling my son that boyfriends/girlfriends sleep together) without talking it over with me.

For me, this is an issue of personal responsibility and professional boundaries. Elia and CD and I absolutely must have a conversation about what is OK and isn't in this new territory.

And we need to know her boyfriend a LOT better before Bear spends time with him in a situation where they may be alone.

But we didn't have time for that conversation between yesterday and today, which is why I had my friend check on her and Bear today. (I mentioned this to Elia; "Dee will be by a lot today, making sure you two are all right here on your own".)

I am happy that Elia is in love, for her sake. I am happy to see her happy.

It was mean-spirited of me to bemoan the fallout, and I feel bad about that.

But about being paranoid? As a parent, I think I will always fall on the side of paranoia - and apologize later, if needed.

It's like we say to Bear; "Safety First".

Posted by: Elizabeth at 03:19 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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After 4 years, the worst things I can say about my babysitter, Elia, are that she doesn't drive and she lets Bear have his way too much. Otherwise, she has been the light that makes the rest of my life possible.

Until now.

Now? Now that dang woman has fallen in looooooooove.

At thirty-something. That shy, sweet, pretty girl of ours is all manicured and fluffy hair and grinning like a cat at an all you can eat canary buffet.

Every once in a while, we let Bear spend the afternoon at her house. It is a duplex, with her brother and his family on the larger half. His two sons are about Bear's age and the three of them pound from room to room like a small herd of water buffalo.

Today, as I was dropping Bear off, Elia brought the gregarious man to meet me. He talked fast and actually tried interpreting her to me at one point, being helpful in a way that was not quite appropriate (Elia and I speak a form of our own Spanglish that does us quite well).

After I picked Bear up, he chattered on and on and in that monologue somewhere was the disturbing news that at one point, when he went back to Elia's side of the house, she was lying on the couch with her new boyfriend "Taking a nap".

"Boyfriends and girlfriends take naps together on a couch," Bear told me.

The rest of the afternoon, from what I understand, went smoothly and there were no more incidents.

But now there are bats in my stomach.

Big. Bats.

Flappity, flappity....

Meanwhile, CD and I are flying out tomorrow morning for my Uncle's memorial at M.I.T. We'll turn around and be back tomorrow night. But to be on the safe side, I've asked my firend Dee to stop by the house - a lot.

For more than 4 years, I've known in my gut that this woman would throw herself in front of a bus to save my son. But now, she's suddenly 13 with no boundaries or sense left in her head.

Flappity.

Flappity....

Posted by: Elizabeth at 04:23 PM | Comments (8) | Add Comment
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Blessed to know him, and have the joy of his company throughout my life. And saddened, beyond words, that he is gone from this world.

Uncle Mike's Obituary. (Link available upon request)

Posted by: Elizabeth at 02:57 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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My beloved Uncle passed away this morning.

The world is a little dim today, for he was a bright light. Survived by his amazing wife and daughter, family and friends who delighted in his humor and his gentle intelligence, and the thousands of students who considered him a blessing and who worked diligently to be among those he would lead into graduation each year.

He loved life. He loved people. And we loved him.

Farewell to thee! but not farewell
To all my fondest thoughts of thee:
Within my heart they still shall dwell;
And they shall cheer and comfort me.
-Anne Bronte

Posted by: Elizabeth at 04:24 AM | Comments (10) | Add Comment
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My neighbor, Jonesie, came over today as we were saying goodbye to my mom. She told us that yesterday, while we were all out, she saw a group of kids sitting on our front steps.

These guys were familiar to us.

They are a white suburban pack of gansta hoodlum wannabes. They dress like the Unabomber or city punks. They are in my neighborhood the last couple of weeks because the kid up the street who used to mow our lawn has turned into a bored dropout who wants, desperately, to belong.

Artie was a sweet kid with emotional problems and learning disabilities. Eventually the school district started tutoring him at home to keep the mayhem at a minimum. Both his parents are spread too thin and he had a lot of unsupervised time, so he took up with these kids.

And now the police are a common visitor. Because this is Pleasantville and these are kids wander in an aimless mass on the sidewalks. The neighbors give them the hairy eyeball and have "911" on the speed dial.

But Artie likes us, so he still waves when he and his friends walk by in a slouched semi-mob seething with attitude. And Bear enthusiastically waves back, and I do, too.

Then, this posse decided to spend some of yesterday camped out on our front doorstep.

My neighbor, Jonesie, didn't like the look of it, so she marched across the street in her teeny skirt and strappy cami (it's what she always wears. Hey, she's like 26 years old and built like supermodel - why not?).

I guess the kids tried to act like they knew us. Tried to tell her they were invited to be on our steps waiting for us to get home. But Jonesie didn't buy it - she challenged them, and wouldn't leave until they got themselves off our property.

When she told us from the little she overheard that they might have intended to ask us for money by pretending they were raising funds for something. But she wasn't sure, she just didn't like the entitled attitude they had hanging out on our front steps while we weren't home.

(Yes, she IS wonderful.)

I don't know why these kids were on our doorstop. Did they think because we were nice enough to wave that somehow that was an invitation to scam us for money? I know I shouldn't jump to conclusions, maybe they had some legitimate reason. Because the alternative was that by acknowledging Artie's wave, we somehow made ourselves targets. And dagnabbit, I refuse to live in a way that makes me pull down my arm and pretend that guys who scare me a little (and they do) aren't somehow human.

But reasons aside, they got right up in our space and stayed there. CD and I knew with a look as the neighbor talked that we had to take what happened seriously.

Because what these boys didn't know, but what have found out if any one of them had reached up to the doorknob, is that we don't lock our house except when we're going on vacation and at night.

Never have.

Now CD and I have decided we must change our ways. And it has made us both inexplicably and deeply sad.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 07:25 PM | Comments (12) | Add Comment
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