Regardless of your political leanings, your religious affiliations, your age, socioeconomic status or the color of your skin, you had to be moved last night watching, for the first time in the history of our country, an African-American accept the Democratic nomination for President of the United States. I get goosebumps just thinking about it.
What a historic event! So far in my lifetime, momentous “Remember where you were” moments seem to be grim — the Challenger space shuttle exploding, the Twin Towers falling. But last night, last night gave me a special kind of pride in our country. Granted, it’s too long in the making, but still. At least the day has finally come.
And I would have had the same kind of pride if Hillary Clinton had been the one standing up there. Now I am confident that in my lifetime I will see a woman, backed by one of the major parties, on the ballot for U.S. President.
Ain’t that somethin’.
Where the hell is Matt?
Where the Hell is Matt? (2008) from Matthew Harding on Vimeo.
If you have even a Grinch-sized heart inside that body of yours, this should make you smile.
If you're 15 months old, it'll probably make you dance.
And if you're pregnant and hormonal, it just might make you bawl at the beauty of mankind.
Or, ya know, so I've heard.
A whole lotta nothin'
It’s hard to have patience and faith that something is going to turn out right, mostly because “right” to us doesn’t always mean “right” to the Man Upstairs. It’s easy to ask Him to show you the path He wants you to take, but it’s hard to wait for Him to show it to you. It’s easy to say “Give me a sign,” but it’s hard to not interpret every little thing you want to be a sign, as a sign.
For the past few months Chris’ job security has shifted and changed, and his prospects for work elsewhere have risen and fallen. And with every little shift, we second-guess ourselves a little bit. I think it’s just human nature.
“Wait, does this mean we should stay?” Sometimes followed the next day by “Huh, so it seems like we should go, then, right?”
Back and forth — stay or go? We debated, and waited. So less than two weeks ago when Chris flew up to Harrisburg, PA., for an interview to be the next editor of the Central Penn Business Journal, I wasn’t sure how to react when he called and told me it went “phenomenally well.” Because we had just sort of decided that his security at the newspaper had become much more solid, due to some unexpected departures. Maybe they were a sign, we’d said. Maybe the house isn’t selling for a reason.
So when he said they all but offered him the job on the spot, I didn't know what to think. The location was darn-near perfect — within an easy drive to family and our best friends, not to mention an hour and a half from Penn State. Such a move was something we’d talked about and daydreamed about for years. It’s a move that became increasingly important when we started a family. But still, staying put is easier, I thought. There’s no stress of selling the house. There’s no packing, saying goodbye to cherished friends here, no loading and unloading all our possessions. There’s no finding a new doctor, navigating a new area, joining a new church.
It’s just easier to stay, I thought.
And then, on the night he was flying home, I came across this old column I’d written more than 2 years ago. And it really hit home. Not necessarily in a “This is a sign!” kind of way, but definitely a nudge in the direction of what my focus needs to be. Family is everything.
Finding something in what seems like nothing
ROBYN PASSANTE
Published Tuesday, January 3, 2006
Holiday family get-togethers are excellent reminders of one simple fact: Life can’t be orchestrated.
This was made clear to me on Dec. 23, when my family had a portrait taken -- our first in more than 12 years.
There were eight adults and three children, the oldest of whom was 2, all crammed into a bathroom-sized studio for 45 minutes on various wooden blocks and stools. We tried our best to stare at the camera while three young women sternly directed us not to look at them as they danced and waved and poked at the babies to try to get the tykes to smile.
It didn’t work.
Turns out it’s impossible to get eight adults and three kids to look in the same direction and smile all at once.
I think the picture we ultimately selected was taken about 35 minutes into the ordeal, which means it was after one of the babies had thrown up but before my father had taken off his glasses to get rid of the glare from the flash. And judging by her blurry image and impish grin, my niece, Cora, appears to be darting out of the room (exceptionally smart for her age).
My sisters and mother were less than thrilled with the picture, but I think it sums up my family beautifully: We’re imperfect and a little weary, but here nonetheless (and somebody better watch Cora).
Apart from the pile of presents and digital memories, the importance of being “here” is what I took from last week’s Christmas trip to upstate New York. I left realizing how much I want to share the mundane moments of life with my loved ones. It’s not so much the birthday and anniversary celebrations that I pine for, it’s the “nothing moments” I really miss -- the afternoons spent playing games with my niece, or the evening car rides for an ice cream cone with my sister.
Because that’s when the good stuff happens. The unorchestrated stuff.
When the family convened in California in September 2004 for my sister’s wedding, it wasn’t the walk down the aisle that brought us all to tears -- it was the random moment two evenings before, when my then-year-old niece, Cora, suddenly toddled across the floor for the first time by herself.
I was lucky enough to be there for that, but there are so many other moments like it that I’ve only heard about secondhand.
Life passes in increments, but too often we only gather to celebrate the milestones. I want to see the increments. And I’m beginning to realize how many of them I’m missing.
A funny thing happens when your generation starts to have children. You begin to notice how much things really do change between your trips home. Not only do your siblings answer to the nicknames you gave them in childhood, but they now respond to other things, like “Mom” and “Maaa” and “Waaaaaaaaaah!”
Your nieces and nephews look like completely different people than the last time you saw them. Their personalities and vocabulary are being shaped before your absent eyes.
Luckily, my genius older sister knows just how I feel. Her Christmas gift to each of us: Web cams to hook up to our computers so that we can see each family member as we talk to them online.
My momentary distress over my loved ones believing I own only one outfit -- sweatpants and a tank top -- was quickly overtaken by the realization that I will now be able to see my niece and nephews change incrementally, even if I can’t hug them. And they will get to know my face along with my voice.
As we pack away the decorations and gather enough nerve to step on the scale, let us look back only fondly on the holidays just passed. If family was involved in your celebrations, there were probably missed flights and overcooked appetizers, sudden colds and fussy babies and packages that weren’t shipped on time.
But there were also smiles and hugs and good-natured teasing, family recipes shared and old memories relived. Everything that got in the way of our perfectly orchestrated plans happened for a reason. Each complication was placed there to make us slow down, relax our expectations and laugh at ourselves.
The best of life happens in seemingly unimportant moments anyway, before the food is placed on the table and long after it’s scraped from the dishes.
When I get that family portrait in the mail, I’ll no doubt laugh at the motley crew in the frame. It doesn’t matter that my brother-in-law is smiling at his son’s giggle, my mom is grinning because her family is, at long last, in the same room, and I’m cracking up at the snide remark my husband just made. It matters not that our smiles say something different. It only matters that we were there, sharing a million little “nothing” moments in that one flash.
Here’s to a new year of getting to share as many of them as you can with those you love.
We leave the Lowcountry for good on Sept. 19. It will be bittersweet, but I can’t wait to start sharing tons of “nothing” moments with those I love so much, and have been away from for so long. Pennsylvania, here we come!
For the past few months Chris’ job security has shifted and changed, and his prospects for work elsewhere have risen and fallen. And with every little shift, we second-guess ourselves a little bit. I think it’s just human nature.
“Wait, does this mean we should stay?” Sometimes followed the next day by “Huh, so it seems like we should go, then, right?”
Back and forth — stay or go? We debated, and waited. So less than two weeks ago when Chris flew up to Harrisburg, PA., for an interview to be the next editor of the Central Penn Business Journal, I wasn’t sure how to react when he called and told me it went “phenomenally well.” Because we had just sort of decided that his security at the newspaper had become much more solid, due to some unexpected departures. Maybe they were a sign, we’d said. Maybe the house isn’t selling for a reason.
So when he said they all but offered him the job on the spot, I didn't know what to think. The location was darn-near perfect — within an easy drive to family and our best friends, not to mention an hour and a half from Penn State. Such a move was something we’d talked about and daydreamed about for years. It’s a move that became increasingly important when we started a family. But still, staying put is easier, I thought. There’s no stress of selling the house. There’s no packing, saying goodbye to cherished friends here, no loading and unloading all our possessions. There’s no finding a new doctor, navigating a new area, joining a new church.
It’s just easier to stay, I thought.
And then, on the night he was flying home, I came across this old column I’d written more than 2 years ago. And it really hit home. Not necessarily in a “This is a sign!” kind of way, but definitely a nudge in the direction of what my focus needs to be. Family is everything.
Finding something in what seems like nothing
ROBYN PASSANTE
Published Tuesday, January 3, 2006
Holiday family get-togethers are excellent reminders of one simple fact: Life can’t be orchestrated.
This was made clear to me on Dec. 23, when my family had a portrait taken -- our first in more than 12 years.
There were eight adults and three children, the oldest of whom was 2, all crammed into a bathroom-sized studio for 45 minutes on various wooden blocks and stools. We tried our best to stare at the camera while three young women sternly directed us not to look at them as they danced and waved and poked at the babies to try to get the tykes to smile.
It didn’t work.
Turns out it’s impossible to get eight adults and three kids to look in the same direction and smile all at once.
I think the picture we ultimately selected was taken about 35 minutes into the ordeal, which means it was after one of the babies had thrown up but before my father had taken off his glasses to get rid of the glare from the flash. And judging by her blurry image and impish grin, my niece, Cora, appears to be darting out of the room (exceptionally smart for her age).
My sisters and mother were less than thrilled with the picture, but I think it sums up my family beautifully: We’re imperfect and a little weary, but here nonetheless (and somebody better watch Cora).
Apart from the pile of presents and digital memories, the importance of being “here” is what I took from last week’s Christmas trip to upstate New York. I left realizing how much I want to share the mundane moments of life with my loved ones. It’s not so much the birthday and anniversary celebrations that I pine for, it’s the “nothing moments” I really miss -- the afternoons spent playing games with my niece, or the evening car rides for an ice cream cone with my sister.
Because that’s when the good stuff happens. The unorchestrated stuff.
When the family convened in California in September 2004 for my sister’s wedding, it wasn’t the walk down the aisle that brought us all to tears -- it was the random moment two evenings before, when my then-year-old niece, Cora, suddenly toddled across the floor for the first time by herself.
I was lucky enough to be there for that, but there are so many other moments like it that I’ve only heard about secondhand.
Life passes in increments, but too often we only gather to celebrate the milestones. I want to see the increments. And I’m beginning to realize how many of them I’m missing.
A funny thing happens when your generation starts to have children. You begin to notice how much things really do change between your trips home. Not only do your siblings answer to the nicknames you gave them in childhood, but they now respond to other things, like “Mom” and “Maaa” and “Waaaaaaaaaah!”
Your nieces and nephews look like completely different people than the last time you saw them. Their personalities and vocabulary are being shaped before your absent eyes.
Luckily, my genius older sister knows just how I feel. Her Christmas gift to each of us: Web cams to hook up to our computers so that we can see each family member as we talk to them online.
My momentary distress over my loved ones believing I own only one outfit -- sweatpants and a tank top -- was quickly overtaken by the realization that I will now be able to see my niece and nephews change incrementally, even if I can’t hug them. And they will get to know my face along with my voice.
As we pack away the decorations and gather enough nerve to step on the scale, let us look back only fondly on the holidays just passed. If family was involved in your celebrations, there were probably missed flights and overcooked appetizers, sudden colds and fussy babies and packages that weren’t shipped on time.
But there were also smiles and hugs and good-natured teasing, family recipes shared and old memories relived. Everything that got in the way of our perfectly orchestrated plans happened for a reason. Each complication was placed there to make us slow down, relax our expectations and laugh at ourselves.
The best of life happens in seemingly unimportant moments anyway, before the food is placed on the table and long after it’s scraped from the dishes.
When I get that family portrait in the mail, I’ll no doubt laugh at the motley crew in the frame. It doesn’t matter that my brother-in-law is smiling at his son’s giggle, my mom is grinning because her family is, at long last, in the same room, and I’m cracking up at the snide remark my husband just made. It matters not that our smiles say something different. It only matters that we were there, sharing a million little “nothing” moments in that one flash.
Here’s to a new year of getting to share as many of them as you can with those you love.
We leave the Lowcountry for good on Sept. 19. It will be bittersweet, but I can’t wait to start sharing tons of “nothing” moments with those I love so much, and have been away from for so long. Pennsylvania, here we come!
Obama Mama in the Making
My mom rocks.
She’s got these friends and relatives who continue to send her those forwarded anti-Barack Obama e-mails, the ones that question his patriotism and charge that he doesn’t salute the flag, doesn’t believe in God, refuses to sing the National Anthem, used the Koran instead of the Bible when he was being sworn in as a U.S. senator... and on and on. They are all falsehoods, distorted versions of reality put in play by McCain supporters, bigots, or just plain ignorant people.
She has sent them to me in the past, as she knows I’m a Barack backer, and each time I get angry. So last week she sent me the latest one, this time about how Barack supposedly got rid of the American flag in favor of his campaign logo on the side of his plane when his campaign recently refurbished it. “What American running for president would remove the symbol of his country?” the e-mail asked.
The true story (because there’s always a true story) is that his campaign just refurbished what was a North American Airlines plane, and in doing so removed from the tail of the plane the airline’s logo -- which looks like a waving American flag. There is, however, still an American flag on Barack’s plane, a view of which is of course not seen in the slanderous e-mail. Also not seen in the e-mail is a shot of McCain’s plane, which has (gasp!) no visible American flag on it, either.
When I opened this e-mail, I fumed, as I usually do. She no longer forwards them on to anyone but me, thanks to her passionate daughter who gave her a piece of her mind the time she DID forward one of them on to others. :) And she understands how to go on snopes.com to check an e-mail claim’s validity, which she did before she sent it to me. Still, I was fuming. So I called her, and we chatted. “Mom, what pisses me off is that this is racism. I hate knowing we have such racists in the family.” I think she was taken aback by that statement, and challenged me on it. “I’m still not sure what I think of Obama either,” she said, “and that has nothing to do with his color.”
I asked her if she really thought these e-mails would be circulating if the Democratic presidential nominee was a white Methodist, and if both of his parents had been Christian. She said she was sure the attacks go both ways, so I asked her if she had received one single such e-mail slandering John McCain. She hadn’t, and neither have I.
I told her that I was fine with people not supporting Obama because they don’t like his stance on foreign policy, or they don’t believe he can help solve the energy crisis. I said I wanted people to make up their minds about the man based on his political leanings, his track record in the Senate, and his campaign promises, NOT whether or not he wears the flag on his lapel, or has it emblazoned on his plane. I talked so much and so passionately that I thought she finally agreed with me to get me to calm down and hang up.
Then, a few hours later, I got an e-mail from her. It was a forwarded copy of the one she’d just sent to the relative who had sent her the e-mail about the plane. It read:
“Dear Xxxx and Xxxxx,
I’m not sure about Obama as yet, but the slander against him that has circulated since his campaign started has really had nothing to do with his political agenda. I wonder why I haven’t had any negative info on McCain. Could it be Obama hasn’t stooped to that level of smear tactics? If everyone had taken the time to read the snopes article, they would have seen the answers about the plane and all the other accusations that have been falsely spread. As I said, I haven’t decided as yet, but I choose to vote on facts rather than whether someone has a flag on their lapel or plane or by some advocate of the devil’s interpretation of the book of Revelation. This truly is not meant to offend you, but instead to have you check all FACTS before sending things on. You are very special to me and I just want us all to check things carefully before we send them on. Love always, Pat”
I’m not lying when I tell you my eyes welled up with tears when I read it. I wanted to kiss her through the computer. Not because she stuck up for the candidate I like so much, but because she truly listened to me, respected me enough to give it some real thought, and had the guts to go out on a limb, and risk offending her own kin, to set the record straight.
I tell ya, my mom rocks. She’s an Obama Mama, whether she knows it or not!
Aaron Brendan Michael Jason Passante
This pregnancy is giving me a whole new appreciation for the Olympic Games. Beyond the super-shot of patriotism and the “reach for your dreams” inspiration they always charge me up with, this year the Games are giving me something else — all kinds of baby-naming suggestions.
We are absolutely clueless about what to name this little bean sprout (actually, it’s quite a bit bigger than a bean sprout ... it’s more like "the size of a large lime,” according to the oh-so-helpful week-by-week pregnancy book I have). So we’re constantly looking for inspiration.
Every night I watch NBC’s coverage glued to lineups, heat lists and lane assignments. Every name gets rolled over my tongue. Nastia Passante. Misty Passante. Chen Passante. Natalie, Fernanda, Giovanna, Vera, Li. Marek, Alicia, Oksana, Fe.
Chris is so tired of me saying names out loud. “How about Matteo Passante?” “Hmm, Usain Passante?”
My favorites so far: Cullen, which Chris nixed right away, and Eamon (pronounced “AY-mon”), which Chris says he “doesn’t hate.” Hmm.....we might have a Gold Medal contender!
40 years
My parents are extraordinary people.
Today, they celebrate 40 years of marriage. And they’re celebrating from two different states.
My older sister is moving into her new home this weekend, and though she protested mightily, my father insisted on driving down to New Jersey to help her family with the taxing process.
It was a decision he and my mom made together, as is the custom with most solid partnerships. When I told Mom I was sad to hear she’d be alone on their special day, I could practically see her shrug through the phone. “It is a special day, but your sister needs help and that’s more important right now. Your father will be back late Sunday night and he has Monday off work, so we’ll celebrate then.”
I suppose when you’ve made it 40 years together, waiting one more day to recognize such a milestone probably doesn’t seem like a big deal.
The big deal to me is how many times over the years I have witnessed them putting others before themselves. Not just the sacrifice of taking out a second mortgage to help put their kids through college, or the personal time lost in favor of softball games and track meets and band concerts. But also the little moments that slipped away while they were busy volunteering at the church or opening their home to foreign exchange students, traveling musicians, and friends of their daughters who were desperate for some parental attention, a hot meal and a hug.
There was a time when I thought they had invested too much in their kids, that they weren’t focusing on themselves enough, on each other. But now I see that the bond of family and all that comes with it is not just the glue that holds them together, but the common passion that brought them together.
I am so thankful for that glue, and so blessed to have been brought up with that kind of love. Through the good and bad, the ups and downs, the lean times and the times of plenty, congratulations, Mom and Dad, on 40 years as husband and wife.
Mind dump
I suppose I could do several separate posts here, but none of this is really worthy of its own headline. So, here's some stuff, condensed to respect the fact that you have far better things to do right now than read about the tiny tidbits of my life:
• I don’t want to pat myself on the back here, but ... I’ve had more than one Coke in the last 80 years. So, you’re welcome Michael Phelps. Enjoy those golds. They’re on me.
Seriously, I am hooked on Olympic coverage, and not just because I’m dying to see a glimpse of my best friend’s hard work. It’s fun to get back to having pride in my country and my fellow countrymen. Go Team USA!
• Granted, in a non-Olympic year this would be far bigger news in my life, but still — FOOTBALL IS BACK!!! OK, so it’s just preseason and who really cares, but FOOTBALL IS BACK!! It’s back in the daily sports section, back in the Sportscenter roundup, and, very soon, back in my weekend routine. For anyone who cares (and I know many of you do), Penn State's first game is in 17 days. And counting.
• I’m at that awkward stage of early pregnancy when I don’t yet look “pregnant,” but I no longer look like myself. Well, I suppose I look like myself if I had a penchant for eating donuts. A lot of donuts. It’s horribly disconcerting for someone who’s used to having a (relatively) flat stomach, because most of my shirts no longer make me look normal. They make me look ridiculous, actually. They make me look like those chicks you see at Wal-Mart (or, really, everywhere these days) whose friends for some unknown reason never get the cojones to tell them that they should no longer be wearing small- (or even medium-) sized shirts, because that amount of fabric is just not cuttin’ it. I’m really not trying to be catty here ... I’m just sayin’ ... Bring on the baby bump! Let’s get this show on the road.
• Last, but certainly not least, it's 10 weeks into this pregnancy and I’ve finally figured out a way to quell the nausea: Gettin’ the Led out. Anyone who knows me knows I’m a Zeppelin freak, but honestly I haven’t listened to much Zep, beyond the random song that pops up from my iTunes shuffle, in quite some time. But three separate times now when I’ve been driving around, feeling as nauseated as ever, a Zep song (twice it was “Black Dog,” and once “Rock and Roll”) has come on the radio, and on instinct I’ve cranked it .... and felt instantly better. I mean, no nausea whatsoever, until several minutes after the song ended.
I need to dig up all my Zeppelin box sets, pronto. It’s about time the boy learned about the Rock Gods anyway....
• I don’t want to pat myself on the back here, but ... I’ve had more than one Coke in the last 80 years. So, you’re welcome Michael Phelps. Enjoy those golds. They’re on me.
Seriously, I am hooked on Olympic coverage, and not just because I’m dying to see a glimpse of my best friend’s hard work. It’s fun to get back to having pride in my country and my fellow countrymen. Go Team USA!
• Granted, in a non-Olympic year this would be far bigger news in my life, but still — FOOTBALL IS BACK!!! OK, so it’s just preseason and who really cares, but FOOTBALL IS BACK!! It’s back in the daily sports section, back in the Sportscenter roundup, and, very soon, back in my weekend routine. For anyone who cares (and I know many of you do), Penn State's first game is in 17 days. And counting.
• I’m at that awkward stage of early pregnancy when I don’t yet look “pregnant,” but I no longer look like myself. Well, I suppose I look like myself if I had a penchant for eating donuts. A lot of donuts. It’s horribly disconcerting for someone who’s used to having a (relatively) flat stomach, because most of my shirts no longer make me look normal. They make me look ridiculous, actually. They make me look like those chicks you see at Wal-Mart (or, really, everywhere these days) whose friends for some unknown reason never get the cojones to tell them that they should no longer be wearing small- (or even medium-) sized shirts, because that amount of fabric is just not cuttin’ it. I’m really not trying to be catty here ... I’m just sayin’ ... Bring on the baby bump! Let’s get this show on the road.
• Last, but certainly not least, it's 10 weeks into this pregnancy and I’ve finally figured out a way to quell the nausea: Gettin’ the Led out. Anyone who knows me knows I’m a Zeppelin freak, but honestly I haven’t listened to much Zep, beyond the random song that pops up from my iTunes shuffle, in quite some time. But three separate times now when I’ve been driving around, feeling as nauseated as ever, a Zep song (twice it was “Black Dog,” and once “Rock and Roll”) has come on the radio, and on instinct I’ve cranked it .... and felt instantly better. I mean, no nausea whatsoever, until several minutes after the song ended.
I need to dig up all my Zeppelin box sets, pronto. It’s about time the boy learned about the Rock Gods anyway....
Things that make you go 'hmmm'
The last thing my husband said to me last night before falling asleep:
"I've always wondered, how come Goofy is a dog, and he can talk, and Pluto is a dog, and he can't talk?"
I lay there awake, in the dark, pondering. Thanks honey. I love you, too.
"I've always wondered, how come Goofy is a dog, and he can talk, and Pluto is a dog, and he can't talk?"
I lay there awake, in the dark, pondering. Thanks honey. I love you, too.
We found our smiles
We had one of those glorious, happy family weekends, the kind where you just smile all day long. And we really needed it. Between the seemingly endless job search, and the 'Are we moving or aren't we?' stress, and my near-constant queasy state, and Chris losing his uncle on Friday after a prolonged illness, and our inability to make it home for the funeral ... we were all in need of some stress-free smiles.
So we packed some snacks and headed to Charleston on Saturday morning to go to the aquarium there. Kostyn loved it! Just loved walking all around, pressing his hands up against the glass displays and giggling at the schools of fish. We ate lunch out, went to the Babies R Us in North Charleston to get a few things for Kostyn and do a little daydreaming about Baby No. 2, shared some chocolate ice cream with KO from Cold Stone Creamery, and finished the day with a bike ride around the neighborhood.
My friends without kids might think that sounds like the most boring way they could possibly think to spend a perfectly good Saturday. But to me, it was a little slice of heaven.
Ni Hao!
I'm always proud of what my friends are up to, but this month I'm particularly giddy over what my best friend, Sheila, is doing. She's in Beijing helping to cover the Olympics for NBC. If you haven't clicked on "The Best Friend" link to the right, be sure to do so from time to time this month, as she promises to update us on the sights and sounds of the games and the country. She also says she'll let us know, if she can, when and where the spots she's producing will see airtime. I can't wait to see some of her hard work!
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