Nancy Davis Kho's Blog, page 58

An Open Letter to the African Tribal Statue in My New Neighbor’s Picture Window

Hello. I come in peace.

I hope you enjoy the traditional suburban offering of chocolate chip cookies that I left with this letter on the sidewalk in front of your residence; I figured you’d be able to see them there from your elevated perch in the picture window, from which you cut quite an imposing figure!

Look, I’ll get right to the point. The other neighbors have asked me to come forward and make you aware of something that may not have occurred to you, and I’m going to try to phrase this as delicately as possible.

You’re big, for a statue. Six feet, am I right? Six two? At any rate, you extend all the way to the top of that picture window.

And my, how detailed! Each earring in your ear, every bracelet on your four arms, revealed from the dark wood by masterful carvers in exquisite relief.

And you are a boy statue. No doubt about it. A big boy statue.

So here’s what I’m wondering.  Might you perhaps consider asking the owners of the house to slip a pair of boxers onto you, or maybe a kicky tribal print sarong? I know, from my extended tour of the premises during realtor’s open house, that you are standing with your back to the dining room. My guess is that a bit of a modesty drape might be welcomed by dinner guests taking in the view of you from behind – especially on Moon Pie night, am I right?

No offense meant, of course – not sure if you are one of those kinds of deities that can throw down curses with your eyes, which are trained right onto our garage door, and I really don’t want any trouble with the Volvo. But you do put out a Very Brady Vibe, and by that I’m of course referring to the Tiki Idol episode.

But for the sake of the children on our side of the street, please: at least hang a napkin on it.

Well, I’ll close by saying, welcome to the neighborhood! One more thing – feel free to grab some of the figs from the tree in the front yard when they’re ripe. Or maybe one of the leaves?

Nancy

Speaking of goodness from Africa, I’ve started following PBS Digital’s Beat Making Lab project, which builds studios in cultural centers around the world and teaches youth to make beats. This one came from the Congo and it is thumpin.’

                   
CommentsStop. I need zero more reasons to return to The Town. by AlisonHa! You had me at moon pie. by Liz @ PeaceLoveGuacOH! Thanks for the hearty afternoon laugh. by Janine KovacHaving spend some time in Africa I can very well picture the ... by Tinne from Tantrums and TomatoesAs a kid I used to practice making out with something similar, ... by AnnPlus 5 more...Related StoriesA Fathering Attribute I’d Like to HaveSeven Things My Pet Thought TodayMy Backstage Concert Rider 

The Dark Side of Family Vacation Memories

Recently my sister, who works in the travel and tourism industry, posted an infographic on her Facebook page highlighting the positive benefits of travel for families. According to the chart, 93% of children say that family vacations allow them to spend quality time with their parents, 53% say that vacations bring the family closer together, and 64% see and do new things they’ll remember for a long time.

But one stat stood out, and I presume because the source was a sister with whom I shared all my childhood vacations: Forty-seven percent of kids agreed with the statement that “Memorable things happen on family vacations that their family talks about even after.”

Because if my childhood memories are anything like yours, we remember and talk about stuff, alright. Just not the stuff my parents intended.

Exhibit A: our first family trip to Florida when I was in third grade. My first time on a plane! My first trip to Disneyland! A waterskiing show at Busch Gardens! Christmas in a hotel room, how novel!

What We Remembered and Talked About: Me being terrified to swim in the pool because it was the year that Jaws was in theaters, and my older brother and sister convinced me there was such a thing as freshwater sharks that came through pool drains.

Exhibit B: Family road trips from New York to our grandparent’s home in North Carolina. Family bonding! Fishing with Grandpa! Riding in golf carts around the retirement community where my grandparents lived!

What We Remembered and Talked About: Somewhere in the bleak, wintry roadway that was US-15 heading south through Pennsylvania, my brother cajoled and whined until my mom gave her the sheer headscarf that she wore tied at the chin to keep her hair just so (this was in ’71 or so, still the bouffant era.) My brother opened a window, leaned out to wave the scarf, and let it fly. Wheels screeched, Dad pulled over to the shoulder, and a scarf-hunt ensued. No luck.

Not once in the years since have we driven US-15 without someone saying, “Keep an eye out for Mom’s scarf.”

Exhibit C: When I was a bit older, we took the Autotrain to Florida for another Disney trip. The chance to move around freely in a nice train while our powder blue station wagon rode along in the back of the train, to be used for the drive home! More Disney! Beautiful weather! We were old enough that our parents let us go into the theme park alone!

What We Remembered and Talked About: Our car battery died as the train wended its way South, so we waited in the deadening Florida heat and humidity for hours while the other passengers hopped in their cars and made their merry way. Ours was the very last car taken off the damn Autotrain and had to have a jumpstart.

Exhibit D: My parents took me, the lone child still in the nest, for a lovely winter weekend vacation in Quebec City, where we stayed at the beautiful Le Chateau Frontenac. We even had a room in a turret.

What We Remembered and Talked About: I’d recently had dental work and all I could eat was French onion soup because my mouth hurt so much.

It seems clear that, even if I remembered and enjoyed all aspects of a family vacation, what really stuck with me were the unplanned and not particularly enjoyable parts of the trip.  And here’s my theory why.

Any fool can have fun at Disneyland. But there are only five people in the world who reach a certain spot on the Pennsylvania Highway and get a laugh out of the phrase, “Anyone see Mom’s scarf?”

On this trip, I’d probably remember getting cuffed again and watching a good man die.  Dada with Dizz Knee Land.

Have a memorable Memorial Day Weekend!

                   
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