ellie the amazing

We try not to brag about the kids too much, because we know it can be awfully tiresome for anyone except us (and possibly the grandmas). But in this case we are going to shout Ellie's recent accomplishment from the virtual rooftop we have here.

First, a bit of backstory. While driving around New Hampshire last Thanksgiving, Ami taught the rest of us a song she learned in fifth grade. It includes the names of all fifty states set to a tune of sorts, with a brief prologue. I was amazed that she could remember anything from fifth grade -- I sure don't -- but a complete song, with so many details, was impressive indeed. But what really blew us away was Ellie's ability to memorize the entire song after just a few singings.

So that was pretty fun, we all sang "Alabama, Alaska, Arizona..." as our Honda dipped and curved through the New England hills. I even learned it myself. Several days later I could no longer remember large chunks of the song, but Ellie did. She sang it for fun, to herself or anyone who would listen, as part of her expanding library of tunes.

So, fast forward to a couple weeks ago. Apparently she was absent-mindedly singing the states song while toiling away in her kindergarten class, and her teacher overheard her. She asked Ellie if she could sing the whole thing, which of course she was happy to do. The teacher was floored. She immediately marched Ellie around to other teachers in the school and had her sing it to each one. Ellie took it all in stride, as is her way, and didn't even think to mention it to us until we happened to ask about something related.

A couple days ago, her teacher asked us if Ellie would be willing to perform her state song, solo, as the opening number at a big student assembly of all the 4th, 5th, and 6th graders. Ellie thought that sounded fun. Whose daughter is this, we wondered.

So today was her big day. I don't mind telling you, I was worried for her. I know at that age, I would have stood up there and froze, or more likely, got as far as Indiana and gone blank. I imagined this as the beginning of the end of Ellie's legendary confidence.

Turns out I should never have doubted Ellie. Here are the results -- and note that right around Kentucky, her microphone cuts out a little; if you turn up the volume you can hear her plowing through undistracted.

Will Miss: The Cheese Store

Alex and I like cheese. A lot.

For the last 9 years, we've always had a cheese store within striking distance. Ithaca had Wegmans, Copenhagen had too many to count, and Forest Hills has Cheese of the World.

As far as selection goes, Cheese of the World is a little on the small side, but they choose good stock. Alex prefers soft, spreadable cheese, although he has favorites in every category. I like them hard and stinky. Some of our favorites are: triple cream brie, Stilton (which Alex describes as dry and creamy at the same time), Aged Cheddar, Port Salut, Danish Blues, and then an array of well-aged cheeses including Manchego, Gruyere, old Goudas (Old Amsterdam is a favorite), Etorki, Roncol, Idiazabal, etc.

On this visit, Ellie and Nico tagged along. Nico refused to try any, but Ellie would have tried every cheese in the store if they'd allowed it. Instead she had to settle with trying 4. (She tends toward my tastes in cheese, which delights me since it means we can get MORE!) In the end we settled on three, a cave-aged gruyere, a soft French cheese with walnuts (I can't remember the name), and a fairly boring Monterey Jack to grate onto the enchiladas I was making. A good haul if I do say so myself.

I have no idea what our future options will be when we move, but even if we have to drive (gasp!), we'll find cheese.

Growing Up Anderson: Memorial Day

Most families had barbecues or outings to the park on Memorial Day. Not the Andersons. We went to the cemetery.

Almost every year of my childhood was the same. We'd load up the car with whoever was around and hit the road. Early on there were lots of us, any siblings at home, some who were already off to college, Grandma Anderson, Eldred, and Mom & Dad. In later years, it sometimes was just Dad, Becki and I. Regardless, it was a long drive to Green River, Wyoming, almost 3 1/2 hours.

If Eldred was there, we'd be regaled with stories of gold mines and giants for the ENTIRE drive. (Who knew China was started by 3 gold miners from Wyoming!). If Eldred wasn't with us, we got to hear silly puns (Watch for Falling Rock) and stories of Dad's youth. It sounded pretty fun: forts, fishing, rolling down the highway inside a tire, etc.

We knew we were getting close when we started to see that signs for Little America. Okay, so not actually that close. If you've never seen all the signs for the first Little America, you're missing a lot! Of signs that is. There must be a sign the moment you cross the Utah/Wyoming border, and one every 2 miles until you arrive. You can't miss them! There isn't much else to see along the way.

Eventually, we would arrive in Green River. Green River, Wyoming is fairly small. In Dad's day, it was smaller. The town sat between the train tracks and what is now I-80. I think that includes about three roads, a high school and a building or two. Not much. Nevertheless, we'd get the tour: the aforementioned high school, the old house, the grocery store where he'd worked as a bagger (Dad - didn't you last just a few days at that job?), and the hills where he'd built forts with his friends. After that we'd head up to the cemetery. We'd visit all the graves, clean them up a bit, and leave some flowers: Granddad Anderson, Aunt Clara, Alice Boyd, & Charles Henry Fenton. When Grandma & Eldred eventually joined them, we'd visit their graves too.

After the cemetery we'd usually drive up into the hills and go arrowhead hunting. I never did find one, but the adventure was there and I loved looking. I remember seeing bald eagles, hawks, jackrabbits, and plenty of sage brush. There wasn't much around, but it was an exciting thing for a kid to do.

Now that I'm in NYC, I can't exactly get to Green River. It's sad, going to the cemetery on Memorial Day was such a part of my childhood. I suppose I could drive over the Verrazano Bridge, taking my family to the wilds of Staten Island and the cemetery there... It's not the same though. I need Mom here to tell my kids all the crazy things she did when she was young, and all the funny stories about her parents. Maybe next Memorial Day...

(Dad - I stole the images of your blog... thanks!)

Won't miss: Smoky Neighbors

Smoking anything is a nasty, nasty habit. Yuck! Worse? Cigar smoking! Unlucky for us, we have both in far too close of proximity.

We are in what is essentially an end of row brownstone. As such, we share one wall with our neighbor, who we have dubbed "Smoking Man." Now, I don't know how these buildings were designed but I do know that for the most part they seem pretty good. However, there seems to be a fatal flaw in two places; the attic and a small triangular cupboard in my kitchen where I keep my bags. Every time I get a bag out I also get a nice whiff of stale cigarette smoke. And that smoky essence on our camping supplies? Well it sure isn't from a campfire.

As if that wasn't enough, our neighbor across the street is the cigar man. Only he doesn't smoke in the privacy of his own home, he smokes in his well-ventilated car, which he usually parks right in front of our house. Whenever we come home and he's there, we have to make a mad dash inside and hope we didn't leave our windows down.

I suppose it is possible our future neighbors will also be smokers, but at very least, I won't be sharing a wall with them. Plus I'll have a lot more private air space.

won't miss: the towel bar

This thing breaks regularly. It's just not a good design. It often decides to break right when we have company here, and it does so with as much loud clanging as possible.





































Now if this was our house, we'd just replace it. But as a renter, who knows? We could be leaving at any minute. So we thought for the last four years. And so we kept fixing it every few months. But no longer!

Will Miss: Diversity

Okay, I'm not saying Patchogue isn't diverse, but really, it's hard to get more diverse than Queens. Really! According to Wikipedia (and everyone else, too), Queens is the most diverse county in the country. It certainly seems that way.

Queens is home to all the really ethnic neighborhoods - we've got Greek, Indian, Jewish, Chinese, Korean, Nearly every possibly South and Central American population, Guyanese, Carribean, etc. We've got just about everyone covered.

A few months ago, I got an email from another parent accusing the school Ellie goes to of racial segregation. I was floored, completely at a loss as to how to respond. Had he ever been to the play yard or any part of the school for that matter?!?!? It turns out the answer to that was no. If he had, he would have found it quite impossible to support such a theory. If there's one thing Ellie's school has, (and it's missing a lot of things... like recess) it's diversity. And I'm going to miss it!

I love that Ellie knows about Eid, Hunakkah, and Chinese New Year not as some ethereal holiday that exists to someone, but as holidays that are celebrated by people she knows. I know there will certainly be some of that in Patchogue, but probably not as much.

Just yesterday I had the chance to go on a class fieldtrip to a local "farm" and while I was there I asked some of the other parents if their kids spoke any languages other than English. Here are the responses I got (And keep in mind, these are only the ones I asked. I guarantee most of the other ones speak a second language since most of them are 1st or 2nd generation Americans).

Ellie - nope
S.- Spanish
Z.- Urdu
D.- Hebrew & Spanish
M.- Italian
M.- Polish
E.- Russian
Z.- nope
F.- Chinese

Should I be mortified that Ellie is possibly one of two students in a class of 21 kindergartners who don't speak a second language????

will miss: ss natural

SS Natural is our local market, and it will be tough to beat. It's a five minute walk from our front door. We have no idea why it is called SS Natural. I associate "SS" with the Chevy SuperSport model lines, or possibly the German stormtroopers. Anyway, SS is a delightful place to buy your goods.



















The produce sections (one organic, one regular) are stunning. They are clearly going for the art of presentation. Quality is excellent too, of course.



















Like most NYC stores, this one is pretty small and packed to the rafters. But they still manage to maintain a huge variety of the items that their upscale clientele demands. They have about 15 kinds of gourmet salmon, exotic fruits and vegetables, and nearly an entire aisle dedicated to tea. I went in yesterday looking for Gardenburgers and some frozen fries, since Ami's out of town. At first I couldn't find the actual Gardenburger brand, just several other brands. That's disappointing, I thought. Later, I came upon the other Gardenburger section. So they have two sections devoted to various veggie burgers. And the fries? Here's a small part of their selection:



















It goes on for several more cabinets. I eventually settled on the "Oven Reds" with sun-dried tomato and an array of spices. Pretty tasty.

SS is clearly a family-run outfit. The same checkers seem to be there every day, all day. They look Asian but their language sounds Slavic, so Ami and I are curious to figure out where they hail from. They're all really nice, and will often offer you an extra orange or something when you check out.




















Thanks for the good times, SS.

will miss/won't miss project

To bid farewell to our apartment here, we compiled a list of the main things we will miss and won't miss when we're gone. Somebody had the idea to post these on the nyharts blog, so we're going to give it a shot over the next few weeks. Now these may not mean much to many of you dear readers, but until you start paying for this blog, we're just going to post whatever we like here.

Before we launch into that, let us give a hurrah for our apartment in general. We consider ourselves very, very lucky to have lived in such a wonderful place. Our first apartment in New York was nothing short of a major drag. There were roaches, sirens, and highly annoying neighbors (smelly, noisy, scary). The hallways were apparently modeled after an insane asylum and the apartment was poorly laid out. Finding a parking spot in the neighborhood could take up to an hour, and occasionally required a subway ride back to the house.

And then came this place. It was heaven by comparison. Not a single roach in four years here. A beautiful, quiet neighborhood, with resident-only parking. Now, we occasionally have to park up to 100 feet from our front door, but usually it's right out in front. If I forget to lock the car, I can do it from my living room.

And such luxuries within! Dishwashers are uncommon in NYC apartments, in our price range anyway. I know everyone else in America has one, but this little guy has singlehandedly changed our lives.



















Not impressed? This'll get you. We actually have... wait for it... a washer! Inside our house no less. For us, this was huge. Sure, people often have a couple of coin-op washers in their apartment buildings. They're shared by the entire building, usually a hundred people or so, with varying standards of cleanliness. You have to haul all your laundry down to the grimy, smelly basement, and hope against hope that nobody steals your stuff, or removes it from the dryer and throws it on the floor, or that you don't run out of quarters on Saturday night at 10pm. But after moving in here...



















We even got this blessed machine for free from a friend who was moving out. It just happily bounces around in our bathroom, totally clean, no quarters required. Sooooo nice.

Now it is true that this apartment is smaller than our previous unfortunate space. But more than making up for that is access to an attic, nearly the size of the entire apartment. This allows us to keep only the essentials down here with us, though everything else is within easy reach. People around here often pay hundreds of dollars per month for storage spaces of this size, some distance away from their apartments. We got it all right here. Bwahaha.

























Probably the best part about this place is our landlady, Ruth, who has become a good friend. She lives on the two floors beneath us, but has always professed to be happy to hear the kids tromping around above her. She's been generous, too. After the first year, she wasn't going to raise the rent. We insisted that she had to raise it somewhat, at least -- everybody does that. After some of this reverse negotiation on both sides, she agreed to raise the rent by the amount of extra water she was paying for since we moved in. The following year she raised the rent 1%. She often lets the kids go upstairs through her house, which they find endlessly fascinating. She even let me build the kids' bed in her basement, over the course of several weeks. Ruth's the best kind of New Yorker: she's no marshmallow, but has a heart of gold.

With that general tribute, we can start on things we'll miss and things we won't. Check this space in coming days for entries about exciting topics like the Grand Central Parkway, our neighborhood cheese store, and the kitchen sink!