As the school year whips by us like homework excuses in a tornado, we find ourselves on the cusp of that most cherished of all educational adventuring: the field trip, where learning and relentless searches for bathrooms are disguised as off-site fun.
You, dear parents, have been chosen (read: volunteered, or at least volun-told) to chaperone.
This isn’t a drill. Nor is it a walk in the park—even if your field trip is actually to a park. This is a tactical obstacle course where you and they will run, cry, fall, climb, carry, and “Why did I volunteer for this?” your way through the day.
Here’s a briefing, because sharing is part of the healing:
Last weekend I took my 11-year-old daughter clothes shopping, hoping we’d get a jump on back-to-school prep. (Back-to-school season now starts somewhere in June, if everything I see is any indication.) Our mission took us through multiple stores, like hapless Goldilockses in search of the elusive Just Right.
These are my posts from a year ago. One in the morning, one later in the day.
We’re taking the day as it comes, as are a lot of families in this area. We may tiptoe into the day, sliding into and out of festivities. We may cannonball in. Who knows? The only certainty is that it’s humid and no one will be having a good hair day.
The heartbreak and fury are real. All I hope is that we’re not asked to move on or to “be strong/go back to normal or else the bad guys win” at a clip that doesn’t work for everyone.
Happy 4th, and I mean that. It used to be one of our favorite holidays because it’s intended to be for every American (although freedom is a complicated and often aspirational topic in this country and those conversations are also a welcome part of my experience.)
If the family wants, we’ll venture back to where we were evacuated from last year. We received a heads-up from family in Highland Park moments before our first responders shut down our town’s festivities. It was surreal.
We were evacuated out of “an abundance of caution.” Our trauma (?) was second-hand? Third-hand? American’d?
It was (un)avoidable, depending on your views on guns and kids and mass shootings and the American experience.
Tonight, per tradition, I’ll hang out with our dog during the fireworks and everyone else will go celebrate with family at our favorite picnic of the year. The dog will pant in my face or go sit in a closet and I’ll sit with him and it’s fine. Minus the dog breath. But if he doesn’t care about my morning breath, I can stand his all-day breath for this.
Complexity is a lovely part of the human experience. I usually love pulling on threads, holding culture and history up to the light, and looking into its prism.
This? Not so much. Not today.
For other communities, there are other days like this. December 14. May 24. February 14.
Jackie Pick 