Hibaku Tree Project

This morning Uta planted a tree seed given to him by our friend Hiroshi ('The good Hiroshi', as he has come to be distinguished by Uta). This seed is very special because it is a great grandchild of a Hibaku Tree. Hibaku means something that has experienced a nuclear bomb. These are the trees that survived the atomic bombing of Hiroshima, on August 6, 1945.

Hiroshi is fostering many of these seeds, placing them in homes all over the United States and the world. His efforts will culminate in an exhibition, where the seedlings will make their debut, at The Horticultural Society of New York in December 2009. We are so honored to take part.

Check out The Tree Project here.

How to crochet

I don’t know how to function when Uta is sick. I can care for him adeptly, which is good, but beyond that I become utterly useless. It isn’t such a terrible thing I suppose, but when there is nothing to be done for him, when he is asleep, or watching a movie in a Motrin stupor, it does no good at all for me to stand by with idle hands. I hover and pace about the boy as if my state of readiness in and of itself will return him to good health. He has been sick all week with high fever, pretty much napping on and off the entire time. That’s a lot of hours clocked by me doing nothing. I wish I knew how to crochet; I could have made a complete layette for the coming baby. Not to worry though, Uta is on the mend. No fever today, he seems to be on the road back to himself.

Sunday

Spiking fever, never ending monopoly, sky opening down pours, sips of juice, and sleep.

An Old Pond

The students in Uta's class each had to bring in a cultural artifact connected to their family history. A boy whose mother is from Thailand brought in a wooden Buddha. A girl whose Dad is from Germany brought in a traditional beer stein. Uta decided to recite a poem by the Japanese poet Basho. He wrote it out in ink and recited it before the class, along with an english translation and a brief explanation of who Basho is. Uta said the class all applauded and made him repeat it three times, clapping each time he reached the end. His teacher later told me that she was so surprised and delighted by his performance she was nearly brought to tears.



An old pond
a frog jumps in
the sound of water

-Basho

Map to the land of Ninjas

Art is fun!

For the past week, day and night, Papa H has been suspended about fifty feet up in the air sewing for the artist Ernesto Neto. The fruits of his hard work are now on view at the the Armory in a show entitled anthropodino. Uta and I accompanied Pop to the opening and I can safely say that never before and most likely never again has an opening been such fun. It is a truly beautiful installation, and especially inviting to kids: with aromatic spices suspended like udders from soaring heights above, dinosaur bone igloos to explore, and a pool of ice blue balls to plunge chin deep in. Uta laughed and played for three hours straight until his literal collapse. He is still hung over from all the excitement.

Papa's Birthday

Perhaps the best remedy for any ailmet (especially those of the heart) is friends, laughter, and good food. For Papa's birthday we filled our apartment with all three. This new place of ours took a few giant steps closer to feeling like home and Papa embraced a new year with a great big smile on his face.

Loving NYC

Loving NYC is not something that comes easy to me; it takes constant convincing and regular collecting of proof positive that this is where we should be. I list the good often, like a mantra to a happy life, but still find myself nursing questions and concerns about the life that has taken shape around us.

Perhaps it is this little life kicking inside me that has my heart swinging a little higher and lower than usual. More often than not I find myself looking through a swell of tears. There is elation and despair, with little ground in between. It is easy to disregard the elation as only a sweet perk of pregnancy, but the despair has a firmer grip. Doesn’t it always? How many times do we dwell on how wonderful any given day may be? Its the humdingers that get the attention. Sad feelings are demanding, they need to be taken stock of, tracked back to their origins and schemed against. I like to blame the city if and whenever possible.

Maybe hormones play a role in it, but pregnancy is a natural time of reflection, and the questions that arise are nonetheless valid. There is something miraculous occurring, out of sight, and yet just under the skin. Growing a new life brings one’s own life up for a little ruthless scrutiny. What will we bring this baby home to? How can we elevate our lives to the level of perfection that is every newborn’s birthright? Is it even possible?

Recently Papa had a close call with a side of the city I prefer to believe isn’t a reality, not for us. He was mugged. He came home out of breath and bloody, and the farce was up in a flash. It is a reality, for everyone. He was ok, a couple scrapes, nothing stolen, but that question rang in my ears like a bullhorn, why are we here? But more realistically, where can we go where this would never happen again? I resent the city for filling me with fear, making me constantly check over my shoulder, hold Uta’s hand a little tighter, judge every stranger I encounter with a harshness that feels more criminal than what happened to Pop.

And then there is Uta's reaction. He says the only thing that matters is that we are all alive. How does he know that? We all ‘know’ that, but how many of us ride that wave as the only one we need? Yes, I think, forcing his words down to my sore heart. Yes. We are all alive, and in that very fact is all we need to be happy, to have a perfect life.

And then he adds, “Mom, I love you more than popcorn popping in a tree.”

My sweet boy. What more can I want? My life is already perfect.

Happy Mother's Day!

For all the Moms we know and love. Happy Mother's Day.

Uta on Youtube (link here)

Uta begged and pleaded to put what he calls an "interview" of his latest Lego creation on Youtube. I can't say I understand his desire, to be honest I found it troubling, but he was determined. I suppose it won't be the last time that his wants are truly foreign to me. So here he is, Uta on Youtube.