Amalfi Drive is Lit! Well, Papi Butch's Front Porch is Lit with Solar Lights from Christmas Tree Shop

A ritual in Cherry Height's is Budweiser around the garbage cans as the sun sets. It's taken a couple of days, but Butch and I cracked that nut last night watching a 1/2 moon rise and awaiting his solar lights fireworks festival to bring Whoville to the summer months of Clay. Sh'Zaam, Boom, Zoom, Wowza! Missing Karl and others from yesteryear, but definitely Butch's light game is on point. 

Thursday was a little shopping, a walk, Canadian smoke, sandwiches from Wrap It Up, and some play time for Karal with neighborhood dogs. 

Today is flowing with the day and doing wedding party Part I. Tomorrow is wedding Part II.

And soon I'll be gargling warm salt water, because that is what digital MD recommends.

Happy Friday. 

Four Decades in Ironing Board Pad History. I Awaited Montage Music with Historical Interviews and Family Photographs

Mom put on her Walmart to-do list that she needed a new ironing pad. Dad and I easily found one and, lo and behold, it matched the Pepto Bismol pink she had me paint Cynde and Casey's room several years ago. After we paid the crane driver and forklift to remove items piled on the ironing board (and to replace them), I went in to take off the pad that was already there. Actually, it was several pads...a walk through 40 years of Amalfi Drive living. 

The first layer was 1970s Little House on the Prairie floral, followed by the 1980s MTV Hammerpants-inspired Zumba flare, followed by a simple rose style from the 2000-2010s, and now we have the Pepto-Bismo rose garden for the next decade.

"The layers add more padding, Bryan," I am told by mother, "but I give you permission to thrown the old ones away."

Is she sure? Too late. "Dad, TAKE THESE TO THE TRASH."

At Walmart, dad also bought two different colored shoe polishes and announced, "I haven't polished my shoes in years." 

I've never known him to polish his shoes (or that he has shoes to be polished) but he was excited by his find, just like the squeezable mayonaise to go with his collection in the back for the fridge. No grapes, though. "Dad, you have a gigantic bowl at home." So he asks, "Can I get strawberries?" of which we did and they were delicious after our potpies dinner. 

Actually, I think there's a can of off-white paint in that room that Casey had to have in case she made a mistake when stenciling roses on the walk back in high school. "What if we make a mistake?" Well, Casey...um.....

And there are piles of Casey's photographs all over the room that she must look at when she visits. 

Nostalgia is beautiful.

Okay. I Proudly Admit It. @kwamealexande's WHY FATHERS CRY AT NIGHT Made Me Day-Cry on My Road Trip from CT to Syracuse

It was a decade ago when I was presenting in CNY with Rhiannon Berry and she called me to see if I could pick up a writer she met at the conference and bring him to her school. Hurricane Sandy had travel stopped for a while, I wasn't returning to Stratford any time soon, and I'm always up for an adventure. He was touring with a book called Acoustic Rooster and His Barnyard Band. I showed up at his hotel in a Ford Escort, the only car I could afford after earning my doctorate and saying goodbye to my Explorer. I introduced myself, went to Liverpool High School with him, co-presented, and fell in love with his voice, spirit, purpose, and storytelling. Soon after, I invited him to keynote for a Writing Our Lives conference and also used him for professional development at Hill Central in New Haven. I made sure two hundred copies of the The Crossover were part of the experience with kids and teachers. I read a draft in Word and knew it was special....

the book I always needed in my high school classroom for a wide variety of reasons...

I dowloaded Why Fathers Cry at Night for my road trip back to Syracuse for Lossine's wedding. I should mention that Lossine, Rhiannon, and Abu were all part of that youth conference in Connecticut quite a while ago. In the back of my mind, I was wondering if a story Kwame told me the last time we were together (one about Nikki Giovanni and his mother/her mother) would be in this memoir. He was drafting at the time and perhaps he piloted a variation of the story with me after he did a radio show and we had a drink at his hotel. I was mesmerized by his retelling and even more thrilled to read a variation of it in the book. It's simply an amazing story. 

The trip to Syracuse is typically 4.5 hours. Why Fathers Cry at Night was just under 4 hours, perfect for the milestone this weekend in Syracuse. 

I'm not going to rave about the book as much as I want to here, only because there's a big weekend ahead and I'm simply thrilled this book is out there for fathers....sons....brothers...friends. As Kwame's story has moved forward with its twists and turns (hello, Disney Plus) and my academic career launched from K-12 to higher education, I've kept up with each and every achievement he's made...cheering his success all they way. It's all well deserved

And I didn't know the 'behind the scenes' story. I had guesses, curiosity, and wonders, but that's not the nature of the friendship. I never pried. I simply admired. Perhaps I worried some.

Yes, I'm admiring him more now. I'm not sure what triggered the tears...his relationship to his father....his love for his daughters...the fact that Lossine is marrying this weekend as I was driving home to spend time with my own parents....or the poetry, letters, recipes, and verses. The book simply hit me. It was a special drive home, and Kwame made it that way (once again). There's something beautiful about reflective honesty. It's raw, and when it comes from a King of language, it's simply beautiful.

But now I'm regretting why I never cooked for him on Mt. Pleasant, and why I've yet to have his fried chicken. I'm holding out, because time travels in strange ways. 

Beautiful book. Wonderful honesty. And I'm thankfu Nikki Giovanni giving him that C, and for him resurrecting the possibilities of Pond Life (ribbit ribbit). Surf's up!

I was moved and loved every moment of the experience (so glad to hear his voice, too). Phew.....I'm no Nikki Giovanni, but I know there's more to come. We simply have to wait for more of the magic. 

And with Anticipation of an Incredible Cohort of @cwpfairfield Educators, Crandall Begins the Gift-Giving Preparation of Summer Activities

When I return from Lossine's wedding, the 2023 Invitational Leadership Institute begins with funding from the State of Connecticut and revenue from yearlong professional development in school donated to the Connecticut Writing Project work. I can't wait to spend four weeks with 12 phenomenal educators from Connecticut schools in the National Writing Project tradition. I spent yesterday on campus getting ready for the work ahead with them, and the 100s of young people participating in Young Adult Literacy Labs (It's Writing, Y'ALL). 

It's hard for me to comprehend that for the last decade we've been building the programs to be what they are (with a two-year Covid survival strategy that still put young people and teachers at the center of the work). 

This morning, however, I'm hitting the road to play thunderstorm dodgeball while listening to two books I downloaded from Audible. I absolutely love spending time in the Hulk listening to my favorite writers and eager to get the CNY time (albeit it, I don't want humidity...not wish swimming pools available...yet Doreen and Nikki's new pups are huge attractions for this trip's goals).

We're unearthing joy and putting our voice first as we explore next generation genres in our writer's notebooks (Next Generation Genres not pictured here, because they're in Julie's Subaru, picked up from Possible Futures). 

Karal knows something is up because I'm filling up laundry baskets for travel and moving around the house preparing for departure. I love coming home to a clean, organized and ready-to-go house. Of course, last night I washed 20 beach pails for the summer programs (cleaned from last year). There's a crazy rumor being spread in my school about me being burned out, which is far from the truth. I am energized, enthusiastic, and willing to go to do work I'm passionate about and believe in. National Writing Project work is the saving grace to help recoup from the other nonsense I must endure as a faculty member. 

I am looking forward to the rebirth. 

Thankful for My Buddy Leo & Getting Tickets to Tank & The Bangas at the Space Ballroom in Hamden - What an Incredible Concert

As soon as Leo saw Tank & the Bangas were returning to Connecticut he nabbed a pair of tickets. We made a night of it, going to dinner at Nautilus and then heading to the venue, the Space Ballroom, where an intimate crowd got to experience the incredible talents of the band and singer and a show of a lifetime. I'm in absolute awe of Tank's stage presence and ability to hype a crowd. Their funk, hip-hop originality is out of this world and I can't believe the performance they gave.

Tank's lyricism and animation is out of this world, and the voice control she uses to go between poetry, muppetry, and animal sounds is whimsically brilliant and high entertaining. It helps that the keyboardist, saxophonist, bass, and drummer have as much talent as she does. We bopped, danced, sang along, and thoroughly enjoyed the performance. 

It cracked us up, too, because the venue was so remote, odd, and simple, so we walked out, hopped in the car, and arrived to his house in a matter of minutes. I kept thinking how much fun it would be to have the Chitunga and the twins with us. The crowd was New Haven rich and I was thrilled to see Lauren Anderson, the owner of Possible Futures there with her partner having as much fun as we were. 

Tank, though, steals the show. Her animated gestures, rhythm, and creative performance is out of this world and we were both thankful to catch them before they go on their European tour.

If you want to experience some of what they do, you can check them out on their NPR Tiny Desk performance. They do their own thing and that is why I love them. 

It was a fantastic Sunday night. 

Crandall's Saturday Night BBQ for Teachers Turned into Teachers Taking Crandall Out for Burgers at Parkers in Trumbull. Saturday Night Win for Me

The summer institute for teachers kicks off in two weeks. We have 14 stellar individuals working on their own writing this summer in the National Writing Project tradition. This pairs well with the 18 teachers I've hired and the hundreds of kids who will be joining out summer program. I can only inhale here and there which I did last night.

This was perfect, because the barometric change and humidity caused a tremendous sinus headache....so much so that midday I was paralyzed and on the couch for a 3 hour name. I'm calling it a sinus headache, but I really think I was collapsing from exhaustion. There's no breaks and the work is all encompassing. 

The plan was to grill out back at 6, but when a text came to say, "Let's just meet for burgers I was 100% in. Much easier and less stressful." It allowed me to nap as I did. 

And on the way back I stopped at Target's and picked up several plastic bins to start packing supplies for the summer programs so they can be conveniently stored and organized each day. I did this last year but someone one (cough cough) used them all for his own move. They now reside in Iowa. 

Today, it's more of the same with a concert at night. The storm threat continues and the humidity remains, too (as long as I can get out for my daily hike I'll be okay). 

Finally, before I forget, it's Mike's birthday. Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike MikeMike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike. Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike

Throw Back to Claim to Fame, Hands Down the Best Party Game (According to Amalfi Drive and My Little Sister). Well, ....

When Casey was a gimp in a wheelchair, and she was stored in my parents basement....that's not true....we never had a basement...she occupied downstairs...we were sort of stuck at home to locations we could wheel her. That typically was the garage, where we'd play drinking games, board games, and pass summer nights in laughter and being foolish. 

Claim to Fame was the game, though. It combined Scattegories, Pictionary, Charades, & Taboo, and we had a great time challenging one another on teams (I guess it must have been 1992 or 1993). Phew. Can that possibility be 30 years ago? Yep. 

I must have talked the game up so much, that Pam decided to find it online and last night we gave it a couple of rounds. Yup. Still the best game. I can't wait to get Leo & Bev, plus others to have a great night. It's just an entertaining trip. 

That was my Friday night. The weather called for a 3-day washout, but so far we've only had a few passing showers (this morning, though, has been a downpour). The humidity is on its way up and the grounds are getting a soaking. I'm not sure what today will be, but I'm riding into it slow because I simply want to rest where I can (just a BBQ at my house for teachers this evening and a concert tomorrow). Slow and steady wins the trace. 

But, for now, I'm on my computer, which is a good thing.  I need to get work done (but truth be told, I want to go back to bed for a few hours...the exhaustion has caught up).