Continuation 2011

Perhaps Overly Entertained

May is the most notoriously busy month in the year: if there's a performance, recital, banquet, award ceremony or program of any importance to any one of your children, its guaranteed to be scheduled right on top of another activity of importance to that child or one of his or her siblings. Constant, nonstop. And precious. Certainly precious. Just ridiculous.

In the spring of 2009, we were the giddy ticket holders for U2's 360 tour...then Bono wrecked his back. And was nearly paralyzed for life, apparently. But, now that we're two years older, our favorite Irish boys came looping back through North America, and Matt, Evie and I were among the 70,000+ who thronged Mile High Stadium on the day of the predicted Rapture to witness the fellas who are so consummately professional as to make their arduous task seem effortless...less than a week later, Matt and I headed out to SLC to witness it all over again with our dearest friends, Steve and Jodi...I think we've converted them. Tee-hee.

Shane and Eve rocked their piano recital - if you must know, we're very haphazard about their musical education. We feel it's wildly important, but are we sticklers about practice times? Do we reschedule lessons willy-nilly as it fits or does not fit our Saturday morning schedules? Could we be more dedicated? Yeah, well, whatever.

The best things in the world are produced by Kindergarten kids. Bono would agree. Gracie delighted us with "I Can Sing a Rainbow" and "Wind, Wind, Wind the Thread" and "The Chicken Song/Dance." Heartbreaking.

Cub Scouts continues to go smoothly - because of building scheduling nightmares and our boys' affinity for playing sports whose teams hold practices on Scouting nights, we just tidy up the requirements before the school year ends, just so the entire summer we miss in the Pack doesn't impact their achievements.

And, most importantly, we freakin' survived.

Performances

The 2011 Edition of Crawford Education Comes to a Close

The year-end classroom hoopla was kept, mercifully, at a minimum - Gracie's kindies enjoyed a pizza party in Bison Park, Shane's 1 and 2nd grade combo class also availed themselves of the Park and munchies, and Ty's 4th grade ice cream social...well, that was extraordinary. On all levels. Most notably for its lack of 'partyness' altogether: we brought in some ice cream, cones and toppings, and the kids proceeded to sit criss-cross-applesauce on the floor, participating in a classroom discussion revolving around the things they gained this year as students: how they grew regarding reading comprehension, mastery of math skills, critical thinking. They did this willingly, excitedly, eloquently, for nearly an hour. In an orderly fashion, taking turns, building on one another's thoughts.

The grand finale was their phenom first-year teacher, Ms. Sellers, and her explanation to the assembled parents the benefits of the classroom's location directly next door to the lab used by the SSN (Students with Special Needs) kids - how in the beginning, when a child with Down's or autism would wander into the class, the reaction was horrified silence, averted eyes, or pleas for help from the teacher to put them where they 'belonged'. By Christmas, they knew each visitor by name, exchanged high fives, and even learned along with their favorite 1st grade visitor Ainsley, a special song titled "There's No One Who's Just Like Me, There's No One Just Like You."

As we watched those 30 kids cheer when she came into the party and sing with her, hands waving in the air in unison...how blessed I felt that Ty had this experience in this classroom. All of the private and charter schools in the world couldn't give him what this room did. What a wonder a public school education is. Hallelujah.

Field Day and Class Parties

O Death, Where is Thy Sting?

Ah, springtime in the Rockies! Which means, actually, mild winter in the Rockies.

We begin the annual attempt at gardening indoors, as you must.

Palm Sunday is just the best occasion for discussion and fun...and, as we do every year, we recreated Holy Week as far as our weak abilities allowed. The kids always ask: Why don't we celebrate Palm Sunday, or anything about Holy Week, at church? And I never have an answer for them. That's not a criticism or complaint, mind you, just an honest query.

The Savior and his donkey, incognito.

On Tuesday we discussed the parable of the Ten Virgins: no play this year, but they did get to create these handy-dandy lamps...every Easter I swear to myself that NEXT year, I'll bring out the serious clay and let them create real, light-bearing lamps. How long can one lie to oneself?

The gals with the Big Bun at Park Meadows...Tagawa nursery creates this fabulous springtime fantasyscape for our enjoyment: even as Denver blossoms, we, at 1,000 feet higher elevation, still yearn for the buds of spring.

Egg-deocrating. The eleventh hour, Saturday night. The local egg hunts were missed by one week, or cancelled, so, well...

nicely done.

Our 2011 Sunday mornings have been less than satisfactory...we switched to the 8 a.m. block due to a ward split, and we've never recovered. Even on this blessed holiday, on which we were due in the Park Meadows ward to hear cousin Collin speak upon returning from his mission to Puebla, Mexico, at the late hour of 9 a.m., we were granted no time reprieve, due to time allotted for travel. So this, my friends, is the Easter Sunday morning leeched of all joy. It can't be helped.

Once you get 'em dressed, however, you can usually coax 5 seconds of merriment.

Collin gave the most wonderful talk...and though it hadn't occurred to me before the speakers began, we couldn't, if we had had a catalog of potential Sacrament meeting programs before us, have picked better Sunday to bring the Kulwicki twins to their first-ever church experience: If a man die, will he live again? How ecstatic were we that we could bring these boys to sit with a group of people who can testify that everyone, indeed, will live again? That they will see their father again, that they will talk with and love with him again? With all the cultural trappings in which Latter-day Saints consistently immerse ourselves, this is the core, what those boys heard this Easter Sunday: 'He is not here, he is risen.'

All I Could Manage to Preserve

The biggest peeve in my world is having the camera be out of commission, and the sin is only exacerbated in seriousness when cameras are out of commission during Spring Break. One might say, with frightening accuracy, that lately, I'm often grumpy regarding our family's photo situation.

We did manage to snatch a few shots at Denver's Zoo, particularly this money shot with Nagini.And the Fab Four on the zoo train.Here, the youngsters frolic wildly at one of our favorite parks, Westlands, in Greenwood Village. This particular park is straight-up five-star, people. Even when it's seasonably chilly. Swingin'.Photographing my boys in a play situation is a goldmine of laughs...the level of enjoyment they manage to eke out of every situation is the envy of every family in the vicinity. So close to a pants-ing. Luckily, Shane remembered underwear.

The rest of break found us at Chuck E. Cheese, Jump Street, the leisure pool, showings of 'Diary of a Wimpy Kid: Rodrick Rules', 'Hop' and 'Rango'...a good, unphotographed time was had by all.Gracie's been taking swim lessons again this last winter, and has just blossomed - yay! She's feeling so confident in her skills that she'll join Shaner as a Castle Rock Cruiser this summer, which officially lands her in the big time. The ultimate deck sibling becomes a player. Most satisfying.Belly-Boo had a much better time than this picture would suggest while singing in the District Honor Choir for the elementary schools...they performed 6 songs at Chaparral High and truly were spectacular. I'm continually amazed at the rabbits pulled out of our district administrator's hats, allowing the arts to continue amid severe budget woes. Props to them.Certified.

Pure Sunshine

Never let a good disaster go to waste.

One of the amazing tremors to reverberate through our lives since Rick's untimely passing is the outpouring of support from Rick's far-reaching circle of friends, fans, and admirers: as his biological family, we've been floored by the Denver punk community and the Southeast Denver baseball community, both of whom just seized the reins and did what needed to be done. His 15-year-old twin boys, Richard and Roman, whom he raised as a single parent, were now the focus of every fundraising effort imaginable. Within days, the Richard Kulwicki Memorial Fund was set up, along with a PayPal account, and the Pure Sunshine Celebration & Benefit, in conjunction other events, was scheduled. The tributes came from everywhere: good friend Troy DeBaca, who, coincidentally, sat in the last classroom our father ever taught at Park Lane Elementary, donated all profits from the sale of these fabulous Pure Sunshine T's, as did another anonymous designer who altered the Budweiser logo to read "Kulwicki", and underneath, "King of Men", rather than "King of Beer." Rick was a Bud guy, so its apropos either way.

Guitars and Fluid (Rick's most well-known band) rarities were auctioned off, and all proceeds from the show were donated by The Bluebird (the very definition of Denver alternative cool. Best venue to play. If you have to go larger, you've officially gotten too big fer yer britches and probably aren't worth hearing anyway).The Kulwicki boys. Fifteen years old and playing the Bluebird? There are no final frontiers to conquer.Another irresistible shot, including fellow bandmate, Henry. Whom we love just like he was our own. He practically is.The Purple Fluid. I'm obviously biased, but this was the highlight of both nights of the show, certainly the emotional apex of all of the sets of the other 16 bands who graced the stage to honor their friend and mentor. Richard's on lead vocals, Roman's on the far left on guitar, Henry, and Garrett Shavlik, Rick's dear friend and former bandmate who flew in from Seattle to ably back them on drums. When former Fluid lead singer John Robinson joined on a few Fluid covers, I'm pretty sure the heavens parted. A favorite action shot, and on the right is Orrie, whose mom Nia is just the backbone of the operation.The aforementioned John Robinson as gone above and beyond in creating much of the media for this fundraising extravaganza, which surely reaches far beyond these shows...these are the pass-along cards, for lack of a better term. The text reads: "Q: What would Ricky do? A: The right thing." Which, at the end of the day, is why all of these fabulous people converged in the first place: you could always count on Ricky to do what was right, even when it was inconvenient, ugly, messy, and in direct opposition to his best interest. What we have experienced is the concept of paying it forward. Which is the best tribute anyone could offer him.