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Monday, December 26th, 2005
For Hanukkah, my father sent us a book to read with Sylvia -- The Three Questions by Jon Muth, which is based on an aphorism a fable of the same name by Leo Tolstoy. A good story, and a good moral -- the questions are, "What is the most important time?", "Who is the most important person?", and "What is the right thing to do?" -- the answers are, "Now.", "The person you are with.", and "Do good toward the person you are with." This evening we read the book and the original story. Muth's book wins out because it has animals as characters, and lovely illustrations. (Sylvia's favorite animal character was Pushkin, the dog.) Here is an interview with Jon Muth. Update: Ugh -- apparently I have misused "aphorism" -- I understood it to mean "fable", but apparently it is only the moral of a fable.
posted evening of December 26th, 2005: Respond
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In 1997 (or thereabouts) I bought a pair of ice skates. Ellen had recently learned to drive and gotten a car, which made getting to a rink easy, and was excited to take up her childhood passtime; I had never skated before (and had always been a lousy roller-skater), but was game to pick it up -- 5 or 6 years of seeing people roller-blading merrily by had made me feel like learning. I didn't get very good at it over the course of the two or three winters I tried to; and eventually in the Wollman rink at Central Park, I fell down and hurt my knee badly enough to make me not want to try any longer. (This knee injury also played a major role in stopping me riding my bike, an activity that I had a lot more invested in.) So the last time I skated was, very roughly, in 1999. But I would give anything to have Sylvia grow up less physically timid and awkward than I did; so when Ellen suggested that we take Sylvia skating this winter I thought it sounded good. This morning I pulled my skates out of the garage and we drove on over to the South Mountain Arena. And it was alright. I skated around the rink several times without falling, and with getting a moderate speed going and the gliding that I like, instead of stepping/walking on my skates. I held Sylvia's hand going back and forth along the edge of the rink. Primarily I just felt pretty comfortable; when I am able to say that at the end of the day I have a sense of accomplishment. (This may speak more to my general level of comfort than to anything else.) Sylvia's first time on the ice went pretty well. She only wanted to stay out on the rink for short periods -- holding Ellen's hand and the wall, or my hand and the wall, or at one point my hand and Ellen's hand. She and I practiced falling down and getting up a few times. Her ankles seem pretty strong.
posted evening of December 26th, 2005: Respond
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It sure rained a lot yesterday. We drove through the pouring rain to Great Neck, to have dinner at my brother-in-law Kenny's house. Ellen had the great idea to invite Sylvia's friend Kaydi along, with two beneficial effects: Sylvia and Kaydi were not bored on the ride over there, which with rain and traffic took about an hour and a half; and Sylvia had a much better time at the dinner than she usually has at family events when there is nobody in her age range present.
posted morning of December 26th, 2005: Respond
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Thursday, December 22nd, 2005
Sylvia and I have finished The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe and moved on to the second Narnia book, Prince Caspian. (We are reading them approximately in order of publication, rather than in chronological order as Lewis recommended -- see this Wikipaedia article for more info.) Sylvia is getting the plot tie-ins between the two books very strongly. Tonight we read Chapter 4, in which the dwarf begins telling the children the story of how Prince Caspian came to learn of the history of Narnia. Early in the chapter, there is a confrontation between Caspian and his uncle King Miraz, with Miraz telling Caspian that the stories of Old Narnia are old wives' tales and lies. Sylvia was at first a bit perplexed; she knew the stories were accurate as the matched up with the previous book. She quickly figured out that Miraz was lying and each time he told Caspian not to believe in Old Narnia, she was quick to interject that he was wrong. That seemed to me like fun and like a fairly complex level of understanding the books.
posted evening of December 22nd, 2005: Respond
➳ More posts about The Chronicles of Narnia
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Friday, December 9th, 2005
Bedtime stories for the past week or so have been chapters of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. Reading Chapter 11 tonight (in which the children and Mr. and Mrs. Beaver begin their journey to the Stone Table and meet Father Christmas), I realized the narrative is reminding me a lot of The Phantom Tollbooth. It struck me while Father Christmas was giving his presents to the children, that that was like Milo getting his presents from the Mathemagician and Azaz -- and thinking about it, I am sure Juster modeled his book in some respects on Narnia. I read all of the Narnia books when I was quite young, and possibly had some of them read to me; my memory of them is faint but I do remember liking them. I am reading to Sylvia from a very nice edition that we bought when we visited the Eric Carle Museum in Amherst, MA. A really great discussion of the Narnia books has been taking place over the last few days in the comments to this post on Unfogged.
posted evening of December 9th, 2005: Respond
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Friday, November 25th, 2005
Tonight we were driving home from Ellen's parents' place, and Sylvia wanted me to tell her a story. A Just-So story. Getting progressively more specific, she asked me to tell her "The Elephant's Child". Well I didn't really feel into that; but I started off, "In the high and far-off times... the Lion, o best beloved, had no mane." Sylvia immediately reacted -- that's not how it goes, it's an elephant -- but almost as immediately, she saw the possibilities, and she let me make up a story. It was a pretty lame one frankly, and not particularly long; no Kipling I. But as soon as the lion had gotten his mane, Sylvia asked to hear one about how the tiger got his stripes. I saw my opening and asked her to tell that story to me. And she did. It was mostly sound effects -- "In the high and flying times there was a tiger with no stripes. And he crashed into the lion and bang and whoosh and boom and he crashed and..." until he eventually crashed into the Mookoo, who had stripes, and they traded. For the rest of the drive home we were regaled with similar stories.
posted evening of November 25th, 2005: Respond
➳ More posts about Just-So Stories
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Saturday, November 12th, 2005
Last night for bed-time story, Sylvia requested a Just-So story. (An "old favorite" -- about 9 months ago we were reading from that book just about every night; but it's been on the shelf untouched for a little while now.) After a consideration of the contents she settled on "How the Leopard Got his Spots", saying even though "The Elephant's Child" is her favorite story, she wanted to see about this one. (When we were reading it regularly, she would ask for "The Elephant's Child" about one night out of three; I got so used to it that I was able to recite it from memory one night when we were driving a long distance and she really wanted to hear a story.) Well "How the Leopard Got his Spots" is one of the more objectionable stories in the book but with a bit of editing you can get most of the racism out and just have it be about colors. So that's what we read. Now our edition of "Just-So Stories" has two sets of illustrations, line drawings that I think are from the original edition -- they have captions that read as if Kipling wrote them -- and more recent color prints.* When we were reading about Baviaan, the "dog-headed, barking baboon" who is the wisest animal in South Africa, there was a line drawing of him, a drawing which looks nothing like a baboon. Sylvia objected -- "that's not a baboon with a dog's head, that's a person with a lion's head -- like a backwards sphinx!" (She learned about the Sphinx recently and is pretty into the idea.)
*I wish, I wish that I could find the edition of "Just-So Stories" that my dad read to us from when we were young. It was oversize and the illustrations were just beautiful. It's possible I am misremembering and they were the same as the color illustrations in this book, just bigger; but I'm pretty sure they were more abstract and symbolic.
posted evening of November 12th, 2005: Respond
➳ More posts about Rudyard Kipling
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Monday, November 7th, 2005
As long as I'm recommending stuff to listen to: Sylvia and I were eating breakfast yesterday morning and listening to Airborn Event with Dan Bodah on FMU, when "Joy Pt. 1" by Shakti came on. Well we both started sort of unconsciously bopping in our seats -- I made eye contact and asked her if she felt like dancing. She grinned and looked away. Then a minute later she said, "Dad... do you feel like dancing?" So we got up and rocked out in the kitchen. Happily it is quite a long song. Here is the playlist for the show with links to audio if you care to check it out -- some of the nicest dancing music I've heard in a while.
posted afternoon of November 7th, 2005: Respond
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Sunday, October 30th, 2005
Our bedtime story tonight was "The Fir Tree", the final story in Tales From Moominvalley, which Ellen and Sylvia picked up the other day at Scandinavia House. Sylvia requested this story because the picture on the first page of the story is of a young Woody, who looks kind of like the Dweller Under the Sink from Moominland Midwinter. The DUS is a mysterious creature who does not speak the same language as the Moomins, and when Moomintroll tried to talk to him, he got angry and said "Radamsah!" which Sylvia found just hilarious. So, we read this story with Sylvia specifying that I call the Woody "Radamsah", which substitution I did make most of the times his name came up. (When I failed to make it, Sylvia was quick to correct me.) (This occasionally happens when we are reading a story, that Sylvia asks me to make some substitution -- for instance when we read Moominland Midwinter, the instruction was always to refer to Too-Ticky with masculine rather than feminine pronouns. -- Note that this is kind of interesting in a weird way as Too-Ticky was modeled on Jannson's female partner, maybe Sylvia is picking up on an intentional gender confusion?) "The Fir Tree" is a wonderful Christmas story, one of the best ever I think. To summarize: The Moomin family normally hibernates through winter and so do not know about Christmas; but this year the Hemulen wakes them up because he is resentful at their sleeping peacefully away while everyone else works so hard at celebrating Christmas. He doesn't bother to explain what's happening though, and the best the Moomins can make out from their fractured interactions with various Hemulens and Gaffsies, is that some kind of dangerous creature named Christmas is coming when it gets dark, and they need to find a fir tree and decorate it, and cook a dinner and set out presents to placate the monster. They end up setting up a very nice Christmas jubilee for the Woody and his small friends and relations, who are impoverished. And then go back to sleep, still not really understanding what is going on. While we were reading the part where the Moomins were arriving at their conclusion that "Christmas" is the name of some monster, Sylvia observed, "like the Dr. Seuss Christmas monster, who takes all the presents away." Yes, nice parallel to find.
posted evening of October 30th, 2005: Respond
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Thursday, October 20th, 2005
Sylvia's birthday present from her grandparents was a bicycle accessory we've been thinking about getting for a while now. It is a tandem trailer, which converts my bike (or Ellen's) into a bicycle built for two, with the rear seat being low enough for Sylvia to ride on it. She loves it! Here are some shots of us riding around.
posted evening of October 20th, 2005: Respond
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