2010 Year in Review








No matter what you may call us – the Carlinos; the Eichlerinos; the Eichler-Carlinos; Paul, Rebecca, Maya and Jonah; Rebecca, Paul, Maya and Jonah; Mr. and Mrs. Paul Carlino; or Mrs. and Mr. Rebecca Eichler; the year 2010 was a milestone year for us. Paul and Rebecca both turned 40 (NOTE: she got there first) and on July 2, Paul and Rebecca also celebrated ten years of filing a joint Federal income tax return together.

In June, Maya ended her first grade year at the top of her class and then quickly established herself in August as a no-nonsense second grade academic – reading a blue streak through the Magic Treehouse series, Babysitter’s Club, Judy Moody, Junie B. Jones, and whatever other above-grade reader she can get her hands on – while mastering those math concepts that we all forget we ever had to learn in the first place – telling time, making change, and recognizing triangles. As long as Maya hasn’t peaked in the second grade, Rebecca and I may have a future valedictorian on our hands.



Jonah turned 5 in August and started his final year in the cooperative preschool that has been such an integral part of our philosophical grounding and social network since we first enrolled Maya in 2007. Jonah also continued his full-on obsession with Star Wars and his influence caused several of his classmates, including some who have not seen even one of the sextet of movies, to costume themselves as little Luke Skywalkers and Darth Vaders for Halloween; a born leader he is.



Aside from these insular family happenings, we also got to see many of you this year; got to reconnect with many of you through Facebook, email, or other online mediums that remain so alien to me that I don’t know their names; or were made to feel guilty when we got your Holiday cards in the mail and knew that we had not sent any ourselves (to anyone, not just to you). Thanks for thinking of us. Truly, we really do appreciate your friendship. Knowing that we continue to make your Holiday card list will make it less awkward for us to knock on your door if we ever need a free place to stay when visiting your neck of the woods. And just so we won’t all feel like complete strangers when that happens, below are a few of our highlights from 2010:

My lovely wife Rebecca continues her immigration law practice that she opened when pregnant with Maya in 2002. Who knew that what we pictured as a temporary situation would blossom into a full-fledged, though still part-time, situation. And Rebecca's aspirations have expanded to include the immigration law partnership, EichlerWright PLC. We are hoping that one day success will be measured financially rather than in the exultations of joy Rebecca brings to families by securing USCIS approval of their citizenship applications to these declining United States.



Did I mention that Rebecca turned 40 on February 9, 2010? In memoriam of her youth, Rebecca organized an April trip for the two of us, and four of our closest friends, and two of their friends, to hike the Inca Trail in Peru.









This awesome adventure had us sandwich days in Lima and Cusco around a four day hike on a 14th century footpath used by the reigning Inca and his royal entourage to travel to his summer home in the mountains – Machu Picchu. The hike took us through a 14,000 foot high mountain pass, affectionately called Dead Woman’s Pass, and culminated in an early morning descent on April 17 to one of the few Incan settlements that was not vandalized by those dastardly Conquistadores – Machu Picchu itself.



Rebecca was so overcome at times on the hike that she has since warned me that she wants her ashes spread as fertilizer at the sprawling agricultural site of Winay Huayna.



True, it was breathtaking, but I can’t think of any better motivation to predecease a spouse than the threat of having to haul your octogenarian carcass up and down the Andes to satisfy her last wishes.

Here is a picture of us overlooking the main buildings and plazas in Machu Picchu.



Next year we plan to photo-shop ourselves into Tokyo and one of the seven wonders of the ancient world – the Hanging Gardens of Babylon.

We were fortunate in June to have Rebecca’s bi-annual family reunion scheduled for the exact time and place in Oregon that we were visiting. We spent several days camping at her Aunt Nettie’s ranch in Grants Pass, Oregon, where Rebecca learned that she had even more cousins than she thought and that 100 degrees with no humidity is still pretty dang hot.





We spent a few days after the reunion camping on the Oregon coast where we saw tide pools and really big trees. You can read more about that trip right here.







In July, Rebecca spent a few days in L.A. visiting her friend from college, Dava. I understand Rebecca and Dava did girl things like going to a street festival, canoeing, and showing up late for dinner, but that they did not get to play any beach volleyball. From L.A., Rebecca traveled to San Diego to sun herself while I taught a class for IRS revenue agents. During off-duty hours, Rebecca and I canoodled and also learned quite a bit about why people don’t travel anymore by stagecoach. Dava and her friend Nick, and Rebecca’s cousin Thea and her husband Matt, drove down from L.A. to join us in San Diego one night. We had so much fun that we nearly got kicked out of our very fancy hotel room.

In September, with amazing foresight and vision, Rebecca determined that we needed an automobile that could fit more than just Maya and Jonah’s car seats. After she revived me with smelling salts, I learned this did not mean that she was pregnant. Rather, the car we owned did not allow our children to bring a friend along on any trip. Thus, Rebecca put her considerable internet surfing skills to the test and we decided on a Mazda 5, the mini-est of mini-vans. We call her Blue Cheese and she is the first brand new car that either Rebecca or I has ever owned. We then promptly went on a car-camping trip with Blue Cheese where we learned that we could pack even a mini-van to bursting and that new cars do not stay looking new for long when you have two young children.

Finally, you may be surprised to hear that Rebecca, that peaceful little flower, took up karate in 2010. The story of how that came about can be read here. Despite her well-known aversion to war and cutting in line at the grocery store, Rebecca has progressed quickly up the arm-twisting, leg-spraining, testicle-rupturing ranks, and recently achieved her purple belt and black gee. As evidence of her limb-breaking prowess, she earned two first place trophies (for form) and a third place (in sparring) at a recent tournament. I’m waiting for just the right moment in 2011 to get in someone’s face so Rebecca can step in and kick their tail.



Maya – I am wiling to bet that Maya’s first quarter report card was the best to ever have the name Carlino attached to it. It was certainly better than any report cards that I ever got – and if that does not shock you, you may be surprised to know that I was spelling bee champion of Mrs. Axley’s second grade class at Memorial School in 1978. The only bad thing you could say about Maya’s report is that she left no room for improvement.



It is also fairly common for Maya to come home with notes from the teacher stating how helpful Maya was that day, how well she grasped the subject matter, or other niceties. Who is this girl? Rebecca and I were at a loss as to how Maya could perform so well in school and behave so poorly at home – fighting with her brother, ignoring or being directly insubordinate to requests for help, crying over spilt milk. When we asked Maya’s teacher for her thoughts, she suggested that Maya is so engaged at school in every subject, activity, and lesson that by the time she gets home her poor little head must be just plain worn out. This provides one plausible explanation for Maya’s ability to turn from happy-go-lucky to wailing banshee on a dime. Another more practical explanation is that Maya matures two years for every one calendar year – so she is actually fifteen years old, hormonally speaking.

Maya got to spend some quality time with her grandparents in 2010. In April, she went on a week-long cruise with her brother and my in-laws to the Bahamas. My in-laws managed to keep her from falling off the boat, thus earning the right to take her on a future cruise. In July, Maya spent a week at “Camp Grandma” with her brother and cousin at my parent’s house on Wolf Lake in New York. This is where I spent much of my teenage years learning to be a juvenile delinquent so we are hoping my Mom can do better with Maya. For 2011, Rebecca and I are resolving that Maya and her brother spend twice as much quality time with the grandparents.





We are told that one of the great joys of parenting is seeing parts of yourself in your children – the mini-me complex. Maya mimics me (and Rebecca) in that she is a voracious reader. She also mimics me in that she is an early riser – but a much earlier riser than I care to be. The great thing about the reading though is that after Maya wakes at an ungodly hour and makes a racket to wake the dead while peeing, she will then retire to her room and read until I get out of bed to help her ready for school.

Maya is very athletic. She holds her own in swimming, skiing, jumping rope, biking, ice skating, and roller blading. She is also a fast runner, good climber, and can hit the heck out of a wiffle ball. However, she is so non-competitive that she once said that she didn’t like to win because it meant the other person had to lose. Rebecca and I are hoping that her attitude improves in this regard.



Another problem is that neither one of my kids will willingly engage in any club sports or group activities. The one exception to the group thing for Maya is Brownies. Rebecca signed Maya up for Brownies without her knowledge and tricked her into attending the first meeting. We were spared any histrionics when Maya realized that she had been duped because she spotted some of her friends in the group. This fall Maya went on a Brownie camping trip where she learned some campfire songs that don’t really have anything to do with camping or Brownies. But she sure is cute when she sings them.

In sum, Maya is a pretty good kid. She tries our patience at times but is very caring and nurturing of her brother, very responsible when tasked with a chore, and is mostly sweet, except when she’s not.



Jonah – Rebecca and I used to hold to the ideal that we would not allow guns (real or toy) in the house. For Christmas this year, Rebecca made everyone their very own marshmallow blaster. This weapon was added to Jonah’s arsenal of pop guns, dart guns, light sabers, swords, daggers and maces; and his stable of plastic soldiers, Star Wars, and knight figures that wreak death upon each other daily in colossal trans-genre battles.

It’s hard to pinpoint exactly when Jonah’s obsession with weapons started, but it has manifested in a more than passing interest in Star Wars. He’s got dozens of Star Wars action figures and vehicles, several Star Wars Lego kits, Star Wars sheets, and Star Wars underwear and T-shirts for every day of the week. He went as Luke Skywalker for Halloween 2009 and Kit Fisto (a more obscure Jedi) in 2010. He starts asking on Monday morning when is it the Wii-kend so he can play his Star Wars Lego video game. When not playing with war-mongering toys, Jonah is play-acting battles from Guadalcanal to the ice planet Hoth.




None of this is unique to 2010, but it paints a picture of what he is all about. It’s a stark contrast to his more serene, gentle-minded sister and gives credence to the old stand-by “boys are different than girls”.

To try to channel some of this physicality, in May we enrolled Jonah in karate lessons where he was quickly declared a prodigy by the instructor. Jonah looked cute as hell and twice as deadly in his white karate outfit and Rebecca and I had plans to leave our home security in the hands and feet of our little black belt.



However, Jonah had to be dis-enrolled from lessons when he refused to attend any of the group instruction that is critical to moving up in rank. It was a dark day when I had to take him, bawling, from the karate studio where he was supposed to get his orange belt because he would not go into the test with the other kids. I am not an economist, but something seemed financially unsound about paying more than $250 a month so Jonah could have 4 private karate lessons with no way to ever rise above a white belt. Nevertheless, we sunk another chunk of money this Winter into a group gymnastics class to which he refused to go. Someone is bound to give in eventually.

These humbling experiences do not negate the fact that Jonah is physically advanced for his age. I have not given up my dream of an early retirement when Jonah signs a contract out of high school with the NY Yankees. For now though, we’ll have to be content with the knowledge that he can climb a fence or tree lickety-split, run circles around most of his friends, perform multiple cartwheels and round-offs, and is tenacious in his efforts. Hopefully, he gets over his reluctance to participate in group settings – jeez, he even refused to play in the annual Carlino family Thanksgiving football game. He would have been at least as good as my sisters.

Jonah turned 5 on August 22. He had a Star Wars party and because he is such a big fan, Darth Vader attended.





In September, Jonah started his last year of pre-school. Hard to believe that next year he will be a kindergartner in the big house, riding the bus, eating lunch with his friends, learning things. I can still remember when he was an infant waking me up at 1, 3 and 5 in the morning. I’m not pining for those days again, but I am trying to keep in mind how quickly these days pass and keep my cool when times get trying so that when my kids are older I can look back on their childhood and be certain that I am not the reason that they are in therapy.

A couple of firsts for Jonah this year – he saw his first rock concert – They Might be Giants at the Kennedy Center. Jonah is a big music fan and has even professed to like Michael Jackson better than he likes Rebecca. He lost his first tooth last March from natural causes and lost three more during the year, also from natural causes. The tooth fairy got two of them, but Jonah is holding on to the others; probably waiting for inflation to increase his return.



Jonah is not reading yet, but if he applied himself instead of bouncing here and there while we are sounding out words, I bet he would pick it up quickly. He definitely still enjoys having 2 books read to him before bedtime and try as he may, there is no place for Waldo to hide where Jonah can not find him.



So I guess that just leaves yours truly. I also turned 40 this year – a few months after Rebecca did. I celebrated a 10th anniversary with Rebecca and a tenth anniversary at my job at the IRS, which, I think, puts me solidly in the middle-aged demographic. Wow. Who saw that coming? For our wedding anniversary dinner, Rebecca and I ate at this wonderful restaurant in Grants Pass, Oregon (her aunt was kind enough to babysit our kids). The name of the place escapes me at the moment, but I remember the event very clearly. We ate in the shadows of a beautiful, warm evening sun – definitely worthy of my ten mostly-wonderful years with Rebecca.

My fantasy baseball team had an exciting year. We started out in the basement and made a run past ten teams to first place in September before falling back to a fourth place finish. Because the baseball season runs from April until October that kept me entertained for most of the year.

I brought a new bike in September and have committed to riding it to work (about 6 miles one way) on something like a daily basis. Nevertheless, I still managed to gain five pounds this year making me the heaviest I have been since my college freshman fifteen.

I also joined the Slightly Overweight Father’s Association (SOFA). SOFA is basically a boys club of some local guys where we do fun things like play softball, watch football, and talk about the movie “Roadhouse”.

Anyway, I could go on and on about all the routine things that happen during the year that are memorable, but that would be like telling you my life story. I’ll save it for when I see you.



Here's to a happy, healthy, and successful 2011!

Maya and me, and Maya

Maya and I are usually the first ones out of bed each weekday morning. Maya has to leave for school around 7:30 and I get up to help her with breakfast, make her lunch, and get myself ready to go to work. The other morning, I had the additional experience of helping her choose her school clothes. This is probably the last time I will ever be able to do this since, as Maya becomes more mature and aware, she will recognize that I am, to put it mildly, fashion-challenged.

When Maya was younger, my mother-in-law made her some skirts and pants. Maya still has some of those clothes and the other morning she pulled out this frizzy, red skirt and said, “Fancy Nancy would pay money for this skirt!” In case you don’t know, Fancy Nancy is a serialized book character who likes fancy things. She dresses fancy, uses fancy words, wants to go to fancy places, and likes fancy dogs. Fancy Nancy would definitely have paid money for this skirt!

After Maya decided she was going to wear it to school that day, I sat in and offered advice on a shirt and tights to go with it. Despite my failure to keep up with the "in-thing" in the world of style, in this case I think I did her right. I put the ix-nay on the purple flowery legging-type pants Maya picked to wear under the skirt. Instead, I directed her to a more reasonable pink tights ensemble. And even though it is my favorite of her shirts, and I would have loved to see her sporting it around the 2nd grade, I knew that her grey-blue Black Crowes T-shirt didn’t go well. Neither did her dingy, white sparkly T-shirt. Come to think of it, I can’t remember what shirt we picked out – but I know it matched, and she looked great. It was a fun time! Who knows, maybe because the experience went so well she’ll have enough confidence in my fashion acumen to take my input on what to wear to her first date? Her coronation? Her induction into the rock-and-roll Hall of Fame?

Which brings me to my next topic - Maya. She got her first quarter report card for the second grade and - WOW! - I'm not sure how she is going to top it. She got all E's (that's E for excellent) and 5's (a 5 is also for excellent) and AL's (that is above level). We may have to skip her ahead a few grades but are going to be forced to hold her back from enrolling for a degree to allow her college fund time to grow.

Seriously, it feels kind of neat to be parent to a good student. Not that I can really take much credit for her shining ability. I have zero role in her completing her homework and whenever I ask her what she is doing at school, she doesn't know. Maybe it's just my smarts and work ethic that have rubbed off on her, or the fact that I was smart enough to marry her mom. Actually, Maya is more my daughter than I give myself credit for - the only two G's she got (G is for good) were in grammar and music - proof that she and I are kin.

They Might Be Giants

On Saturday, October 2, They Might Be Giants performed a free concert at the Kennedy Center in Washington D.C.. We have been listening to TMBG for a few years. I think we got their kids CD “NO!” shortly after Maya was born in 2002. That was my first introduction to this lyrically quirky, but musically accomplished band. Though, I do think I remember hearing of them back in the days when MTV showed music videos.

In the summer of 2004, I was in Portland, Oregon for work. Rebecca and a nearly two-year old Maya were with me and one night we went to a Taste-of-Portland event in a field along the Columbia River. I randomly picked up a flyer while we were sitting and eating and saw that TMBG were playing a free concert that night at eight (how do these guys make any money?). I hustled Rebecca and Maya back to the hotel room and made it back in time to stand only ten feet from the stage. I could see that the space was pretty packed with adults, but since I was only familiar with their kids music, I wasn’t sure what to expect. TMBG came out smoking and didn’t stop rocking – who knew an accordion could be an integral part of a rock and roll band!

That show hooked me and I exhausted the BMG Music Club TMBG catalogue. So we’ve now got about six or eight TMBG CDs – not including the three kids TMBG CDs we have. Honestly, there is not much difference between their grown-up records and their kids stuff. Compare “The Edison Museum” with “James K. Polk”.

Maya and Jonah have also come to dig their music. A few years ago, Friday night was a really big deal in our house because that was the night a new podcast was available on the TMBG website. Each podcast contained one or two songs off the much anticipated release of their CDs “Here Come the ABCs” and “Here Come the 1, 2, 3s”. Of course, we got the CDs as soon as they came out and even now I often find myself singing “Pirate Girls Nine” or “Pictures of Penguins Painting”.

Fast forward to last Saturday. We’d been psyching the kids up all week for the show and they were pretty excited, talking about what songs they most wanted to hear (“D is for Drums” for Jonah and “Where Do They Make Balloons?” for Maya) but Jonah still managed to fall asleep on the way to the Kennedy Center. The show was set to begin at six and since it was free, I anticipated a lot of people. We were able to get some friends to the Kennedy Center by four p.m. so when we showed up at 4:30, we went right past about two hundred people to the front of the line where our friends were. In that way, we were some of the first people let through the doors to stake our spot. There were some stairs along the right hand side as we approached the stage and we claimed that spot so the kids would be able to see over peoples’ heads. So, there I am again, ten feet from a free TMBG show. It’s the only way I’ll see them.

The hard part was waiting for about an hour before the show started. But when it did finally start, Maya was bouncing up and down to the music with a smile. “It was worth the wait!” she said while clapping her hands to “Clap your Hands”.

About halfway through the show, which was a mix of kids stuff and regular stuff (really, no difference! Compare “Nonagon” with “Dr. Worm”) confetti got shot into the crowd. The kids loved it. They spent most of the rest of the show pushing the confetti that was on the ground into piles, picking up the piles, and throwing the confetti back into the air. The band shot confetti into the crowd during a few other songs and this made the piles that my kids picked up bigger and better.

After the show, while we waited for the crowd to thin out so we could do the same, Jonah proclaimed that it was the best day of his life. What did he like about it? The confetti. He wants to know if stores sell it.

I Think I'm in Love

Friday night. I had to go to my office because I forgot my phone charger. On the way out of the block I see Anna and Jeff walking their dogs and carrying bags of poop. Hop in, I say, we'll throw poop at people. We laugh about it.

I get into D.C. and park near my office then decide to walk a few blocks to the Borders that is going out of business. It's so fucking hot that I stop at a bar for a beer on the way. Service is slow so I leave. I get to the Borders just as it closed. No big deal, I turn around. Lots of pretty women are out walking. Back to the office and the guard says about the spots on my shirt from my shoulders to my belly, "Oh, is it raining?"

No, I say, that's sweat. We laugh about it.

On the way out of D.C. that Eddie Money song comes on. It's a good one I haven't heard since a long time. Moving like a sea of madness, yeah!

With the windows open I get a whiff of Maine Avenue; the marina and seafood market. Lots of people would balk but I revel in it. Bring it all the way down the GW Parkway past the Marina where the Belisana, our friends' sailboat was once docked. It's that kind of night.

Maya and Jonah are happy at Wolf Lake. Rebecca is happy in Santa Monica. I'm going to meet her in San Diego on Sunday but right now I'm going home and all my chores are done. The song that comes on the radio as I pull in front of our home; Joe Walsh, Life's Been Good.

Travelogue - Camping in Oregon, Summer 2010

We recently spent some time in Southwestern Oregon. Our first stop was at Rebecca's cousin Nettie's property outside of Grants Pass for the Eichler family bi-annual reunion. This event draws aunts and uncles, cousins and kids from all over the west - LA, Washington, Utah - and us Easterners - together for three or four days of camping, games, storytelling, drinking, and bear-hunting.

This year, Maya and Jonah got to meet some cousins that they hadn't ever met. In particular, they palled around with two girls, Jasmine and Kaylie, who belong to Rebecca's cousin Jason (who is Nettie's son). The four kids, and a dozen or so other Eichler offspring, roamed Nettie's property (which was about two acres - and fenced in, which was perfect) unsupervised for most of each day - playing on the rented moonbounce/water-slide, in the rented dunk-tank, with the goats, chickens, dogs, gathering wood for the fire, rolling around in the dirt, eating occasionally, and generally going feral. At night, Uncle Ernst would hide his bears around the property and the kids would go on a flashlight bear hunt. It was a grand time as it always is.

Since I have been going to these reunions with Rebecca, they have taken place at Lake Quinnalt in Washington; Moab, Utah; Jalama Beach in Santa Barbara, CA; Bear Lake in Idaho, and now in Oregon. These are not like I would imagine it would be to go to Rebecca's high school reunion - where I would feel like an outsider. Without exception, the family is warm, friendly, inclusive, and just fun to be around. One of the cousins even offered to let me handle her bikini bottoms (after she took them off). Hospitality, I tell you.

After the reunion ended we buddied up with Rebecca's cousin Thea and her husband Matt and drove out to the coast for a night. The most direct route to the coast from Grants Pass is through the Siskiyou National Forest on a windy road up and down mountains where the top speed is 20 MPH. We learned that Jonah gets car sick. Fortunately there was a bucket that we had brought along for tide-pooling right in front of him and some of the berries we had eaten from Nettie's strawberry patch that morning ended up in there. Others ended up on Jonah's shirt and car seat. And the sweet smell hung in the air. But it was the damndest thing - he'd be moaning and crying while we were driving and then we'd stop and he'd be tearing up and down the side of the road like nothing in the world was bothering him. His car sickness must be the equivalent to the sea sicknees I felt in 1992 on a ferry from Ireland to Le Havre, France on a rolling sea. My mind felt like I was on acid - no way out - and my stomach wanted to jettison all the Guinness I had drunk that day. Nothing to do but lay down on the floor of the ferry (like dozens of other passengers) and try to sleep. Of course, telling Jonah to close his eyes and try to sleep is useless - he won't do it. So, our 78 mile trip from Grants Pass to Gold Beach took about 4 hours.

We finally got to the campground we had chosen the night before with Thea, and in advance of Matt and Thea who were still breaking down their tent when we left Nettie's that morning. Matt is this giant of a man with such an easygoing and bright-side nature that you can't help but want to hang out with him. Add irrepressible Thea to the mix and it is one fun couple. Matt and Thea were driving back to LA and the plan was that we would camp with them the one night in Gold Beach and then go our separate ways. At least that was the plan, but Matt and Thea ended up renting a "cabin" at the campground (after we had pitched our tent in a fierce windstorm) and Maya and Jonah ended up in their hot tub. I adjusted the heat down because my kids were doing a slow-boil and ended up messing up the setting so that when Matt and Thea tried to get in the tub later that night, the temp was about 70 degrees. Maybe that's why nobody likes me.

After we left Matt and Thea on Wednesday morning, we headed a few miles further south on U.S. 101 to the town of Brookings, where we stayed at Harris Beach State Park. The plan was to stay there one night to do some tide-pooling but the campground was so nice and the beach so beautiful that we scrapped our plan to camp the last night in the Redwood forest in CA and spent a second night at Harris Beach. We did pass through the Redwood forest on Friday on our way back to Nettie's where we spent our last night before flying out on Saturday morning, so got to see some big tree specimens. I had never seen a redwood and have to say they were pretty impressive. Rebecca remembered a photo from her youth in which she and Chris and parents are standing next to a Redwood and look like dwarfs. She wanted to re-create that for Maya and Jonah so we tried to take some pictures.

We also did a detour on the way to Gold Beach to see the world's tallest pine tree. Maya was asleep in the car so she is going to have to visit it again someday. It's too bad because Maya is actually a big fan of trees. I remember being in Shenandoah National Park when she was our only child teaching her how to hug a tree. Her school lunch bag has a tree on it. I have a picture she drew for school of her flag design - which is a flag with a tree on it. We should have made her middle name Oak. Anyway, the world's tallest pine tree is in the Pine Campground in Siskiyou National Forest. It's pretty old too.

Both Maya and Jonah are such good campers. Many of our friends say we are so brave for going camping with them (that's city folk for you) but they are so easy and I think they really enjoy it. Of course, they may also like it because we don't pester them to wear clean clothes and bathe themselves! About the only real life rule that applies when camping is that you still have to brush your teeth.

Jonah is really into helping set up and break down camp. They both love to gather wood and help start the fire. Our second day we had to move from one site to another and Maya was so helpful in gathering our things and following the camping rules by not walking through other peoples campsites (even though it was a shortcut). I've noticed that Maya is very good at being respectful of other people's rights/things/privacy. She is really a very mature person for only seven years old!

The highlights of our Harris Beach state park time were the fish dinners we had each night (at a restaurant); tide-pooling where we got to see some cool aquatic things (mostly anemones, star fish, mussels, but also some crabs), build rock cairns (there are some cool looking rocks in Oregon), and listen to me tell stories about my childhood summers at Belmar on the Jersey Shore (I may have enjoyed that part more than the others).

I guess I could go on and on . . . and maybe sometime I will add to this post. But right now it is getting late and I'm going to wrap it up. I'll post some pictures shortly.

Martial (Brain F) arts

Jonah began taking karate classes a few months ago. So far he has learned a front ball kick, a side kick, a hammer punch, a thrust punch, defensive maneuver #6, and stepping out on guard. He tests for his yellow belt this Saturday.

Jonah was encouraged in this endeavor by Rebecca, who actually took photos of Jonah as an infant at an anti-war rally so that she could create a a photo album to document his lifelong pacifism so that he could avoid being drafted into the army as an adult. Apparently if Jonah were to show this album to his drill sergeant at boot camp he would be excused from service, with apologies. This is the kind of crazy thing you read on the internet and think is a good, solid idea.

Anyway, the studio where Jonah takes karate lessons is running a promotion that allows mothers to take classes for free for the entire month of May. The promotion is purportedly in honor of Mothers Day, but is obviously the brainchild of one of the hot, young-buck instructors who see slightly-toned, been around the block a few times women parading their kids in and out of the studio every day. I will eat my hat if this studio runs a similar promotion in June for Father's Day.

Rebecca, always in search of a good deal, is of course taking advantage of this offer. It is just coincidence, I'm told, that Rebecca and all her friends, who debate endlessly about whether to allow their sons to play with pretend guns, have taken a sudden, keen interest in "learning" the deadly art of karate. Rebecca even got Jonah's teacher, Sensei (one of the aforementioned hot, young-bucks) to extend her free lessons into June.

All along Sensei has been telling Rebecca that he has never taught a more athletic or coordinated 4-year old than Jonah. Originally, we thought this was just to keep our checkbook open. However, I now think it is Sensei's master plan to woo Rebecca into his Dojo permanently, so that he can have unfettered 24-7 access to Jonah, in order to mold the boy into the next Bruce Lee/Chuck Norris/Jackie Chan, and bonk the bird to boot. Not a bad little scheme for a guy who, as far as I can tell, never wears shoes and only owns one belt.

Actually if this plays out the way I've imagined it, it would have a bright side. I mean, it's true I want my kids to have things better than I had; and the best Jonah can hope for from me is to learn how to read a box score.

The Junk Collector

I read an article in the Washington Times recently that was premised on some good old fashioned twentieth century thinking - that recycling is actually more costly to communities than if we sent the stuff to a landfill. The article went on to analyze this premise from a dollars and cents perspective - which I don't think is any great revelation. However, being that this was an article from the Washington Times, it completely neglected to compare the concept of recycling versus not recyling for the long-term good of the planet (the Washington Times not espousing far-left views.) Though, to give the author some credit, he did stop short of advocating throwing your empty beer cans into the river when fishing.

In the spirit of Earth Day, Maya's first grade class has been studying the environment and earth-friendly attitudes. In that context, Maya brought home a checklist the other day of all the household items that can be recycled. I was happy to see that Maya had checked off each item on the list (things like plastic, aluminum, glass, paper, compost) and had even added one of her own - bringing food scraps to the chickens at Tauxemont, her former preschool. It's nice to see Rebecca and my influences rubbing off on the girl.

Then I had these thoughts while running past a perfectly good pencil eraser, baby bottle, and red bandanna on the Mall the other day. I could very easily see myself, in fact, I nearly had to prevent myself, stopping to pick those things up. Whether they had been lost or cast away by others, they still had some use. I could take the eraser home and give it to Maya to put on her school pencil. I could run the baby bottle through the dishwasher and post it for free on Craigslist. One hot wash with Rebecca's special homemade dye and perfume free detergent and the bandanna would be perfectly fine to put on my head or mop my brow. At the very least, it could be a rag.

The problem is, once one starts down that path, where does it end? Why not stop to pick every little thing up that someone has lost or cast away that still has some use? I see plenty of pens and pencils on the ground - why not stop and pick them up? All those popsicle sticks could be picked up and stored for neat crafts. Reduce, reuse, recycle is a fine mantra for a junk collector.

And what about items that can be recycled that are left on the ground or deposited in the trash? I could spend all day every day gathering the empty gatorade bottles strewn about. Some of them might be worth 5 cents in NY. How many abandoned newspapers have I seen on the Metro or bus? Don't the Boy Scouts pay cents on the pound for old newspaper? Can I bring it to the animal shelter? It gets to be too overwhelming to think about the waste and ignorance and I have to just carry on and do what I can do.

Of course, while I am running, thinking all of this, I am listening to Van Halen's 1983 album Diver Down on my iPod. Some people would call Van Halen useless junk, yet I've been listening to the stuff for more than twenty years and I still get good use out of it (just try sitting still while listening to the Full Bug). No need to thank me, I'm just carrying on doing what I can do for the Earth.