Greenfield's Ragtime Street Fair, 2015

Two years ago, Jon made the birthday resolution of playing in Greenfield Village's Ragtime Piano Cutting Contest. He played, and he took home the trophy (which was actually a handmade pitcher, and he didn't get to take it home because they made it for him and then sent it to him). It was a great, fun time, even in the heat of what was the hottest summer we'd had in years.

Then last year we missed the competition because we were out of town, but this year...this year Calvin participated in the eternally entertaining cutting contest. This was an amazing thing for so many reasons. Lately Calvin has been complaining of a sort of stage fright. He has mentioned being nervous or embarrassed about many things. I reminded him that to participate in the cutting contest he'd have to play in front of hundreds of people, but he was undeterred.

So he practiced his little butt off to prepare, and as the date got closer I got increasingly nervous that he would suddenly become nervous, but the shoe never dropped. Performance time came and not only did he handle it like a pro, he nailed his piece. NAILED it. We couldn't have been prouder, and he couldn't have been more pleased. The judges encouraged him to come back, and suggested challenging himself with harder pieces because, as they told him, he clearly gets it. With a few more years on him he's got the competition in the bag.

But I mentioned many ways in which this was an amazing event. Calvin's calm and poise in front of hundreds of strangers (at the age of nine) was an amazing thing. And the crowd's response was another wow moment. I think all those people watched this young kid walk up to the piano and expected a cute performance, and they were all utterly surprised by his actual performance. People who were just passing through stopped to watch,  others paused in their texting, etc. to watch him, and at the end the crowd, much larger than it was at the beginning, erupted in applause. I don't know if Calvin really heard it or not—I know I would have been too nervous to have registered my surroundings—but the awe and appreciation of the surprised crowd was the final amazing thing of the day. Well, that and the number of strangers who stopped us after, even hours after, later in the park, to tell us what a fantastic job he did (to which I always say, or at least think, "don't tell us, we had little to do with it, tell him!" but that's a subject for another time).

Week 27 in pictures

July 2: Hazy
by Calvin

by Cortney

July 3: Side light
by Calvin

by Cortney

July 4: Spellbound
by Calvin

by Cortney

July 5: Now and then
by Calvin

by Cortney

July 6: Variation
By Calvin

by Cortney

July 7: Where I stand
by Calvin

July 8: In the past
by Cortney

Rolling Sculptures, as photographed by Calvin

Reunion on the 4th

My dad's birthday is on the 4th of July. He's quiet and unassuming, so he never makes a big deal out of the event, but I definitely grew up thinking that his birthday was a big deal. I mean, all the people, all the celebration, all the fireworks! Who else gets fireworks for their birthday? The illusion was perpetuated, at least in part, by the wild shindigs my grandparents threw every year, first in their stately old home with the suburban backyard and friendly neighbors, and later in their newly built larger home deep in the woods. In my memory these gatherings were always part birthday party and part 4th of July celebration, but the largest portion was a reunion of sorts, a meeting of long-time friends and family with catching up to do.

I don't actually remember how often they threw these parties. In my memory they were an annual thing until they sort of petered out, probably as kids (my generation) got older and other activities got in the way. When I was younger, there were great big tubs of beer and pop, high chairs littered the back patio, and we spent the evening lighting black carbon snakes in the driveway. I remember the smell vividly. The last party I really remember I was in middle school, or maybe high school. My dad was wearing a weird short-sleeved plaid shirt and a mustache, and his cake, made by a talented family friend, was shaped like a computer—the old desktop kind with a big monitor and clunky keyboard (only at the time it wasn't old).

So partying on the fourth has a long tradition in our family, just one that hasn't been exercised in an number of decades larger than one. As all extended families do, ours scattered to the call of school, work, and the next generation. Some of those revelers I haven't seen in nigh on twenty years. In that time the kids of my generation have gotten married and had children of their own. Others, like my grandparents, have passed away. In all those years, a lot has changed. If you go too long between reunions, you don't always recognize the people you are there to see.

So my dad's cousins held the reunion this year, down in Indiana farm country where my grandfather's baby sister is still living with many of her children, and their children, surrounding her. She is the last of her generation, her three brothers gone before her, but she is sharp and young at heart, and it was her birthday, actually later in the month, that brought us all together this year. We spent three days playing with cousins we see more regularly, and getting to know those we haven't seen in many years, in some cases ever. There was a big hill good for all kinds of play, trees for climbing, and a field that proved perfect for kickball. And while the kids roamed far and wide, the adults huddled together, sharing memories of the past and details of the present, our tight groups a stark contrast to the great openness of the heartland around us. Because that's  what a family reunion is about.

County Parks Pioneer Days