(From the Blue Stone Press column “Dear Wally” Oct, 2008)
Dear Wally-
You are a recent father. What do you like most about your baby:
-JR
Dear JR- I like the size of my baby girl’s head. It’s the perfect little cantaloupe. I like the smell of her head, too. It smells like organic almond oil and Burt’s talc-free corn starch. It also smells like my lips. If she goes bald, it’s because I’ve worn down a spot on the top from over-kissing it. I like seeing her nurse and then drift one eye cautiously to me as I hover over and her mother tries to shoo me, a distracting agent, away. She’s inspecting me, this baby, checking me out with tentative approval, yet mostly focused on the immediate task of eating and maternal comfort. I like the way she rocks up on all fours on the bedspread and jerks back and forth to the satellite radio’s Bob Marley station when she’s happy. (We call this dance the “Hootchie Momma”. We will unlearn it before college). I like the way her chunky little feet poke through warm terrycloth leg holes and wiggle at the new day. And the look of complete sensory overload when we lower her into a tepid bath and she doesn’t quite know if today she likes it or not. I like the way she shoves everything into her mouth, maybe because that’s what I do. And the way she grabs the phone and flings it off the desk and across the room with those bionically strong fingers that look like miniature ears of corn from the Chinese restaurant. (Did she learn this from me and a recent encounter with a so called Verizon ‘customer service’ representative? Nope. I felt like doing it but didn’t).
I like how she’s startled by her own actions. Must be a curious thing to be startled by the newness of your actions…Or that she can nap from 4-5. Or any time she damn well pleases. That’s pretty neat. I like how she has a homing device in her hand that guides her to my eyeglasses no matter how dark it is, no matter if she’s even looking my direction. I like how she bops me on the nose and eagerly awaits my verbal ‘honk.’ It’s a game we play and conditioned response for us both now. I especially like how she throws her arms around my neck already before she even knows it’ll get her anything she wants. It’s one of my favorite things ever, ever in this entire world. I like how she can curl up in my arms and drift off to sleep, no matter the noise. And how she gets tired of me typing at my computer and starts demanding attention by smacking the keys. Like this:kjsdhkvhfqhoincvwjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj.
I like the raw ambition she has for movement. And that the energy she expends to stand upright, a goal of the highest consequence, conks her out so thoroughly. What focus! What efficiency! I like the miniaturization of fingernails, which before we clean them have the telltale signs of hard play, not hard work. I like how she squeals with unabashed delight when I lift her above my head and play airplane. The exhilaration of being suspended off the ground is almost too much for her. I also like how a family laugh, which starts off sounding like a cardboard box being dragged on a barn floor by a mule team, skipped 2 generations from my own paternal grandfather and landed in her body. I’ve missed it all these years since his death. If you tickle her just right, you can get two dimples at once. And if you miss, you get a scowl. I like seeing her so happy in her mother’s arms, safe and sound. I like the triangulation she has allowed our family. I even like changing her diaper because it means she’ll feel better when I‘m done and I’ll have done my part to help ruin another landfill. I like that she’s not afraid of our dogs or our horses, and instead considers them as natural as a sunny day.
I like watching her try to eat an apple, gumming it and savoring it for the brand new sharp flavor and curious texture it offers. I like that her favorite ‘toy’ is my guitar which I play for her every day that I can. I like that she tries to eat the books we read her. I can brag and say she’s a voracious consumer of literature and not be lying. I like that she and I look like we’ve just been in the world’s most successful (and fun!) food fight after every meal I feed her. I like that she wails for us when we hand her off to a babysitter. I like that it only lasts a moment until she realizes she’s ok and there’s lots to do and experience. I like that she’s so young and that her sense of wonderment is pure and primal. Same with her sense of exploration and trust.
What I don’t like is that that sneaky bastard time has just left the building with my credit card, car keys and a snicker.
-Wally
(Got a question that needs answering or baby’s head that needs smoochin’? Contact our advice columnist at cwn4@aol.com)
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Walmart of my Dreams
The Walmart of My Dreams
By Wally Nichols
(203) 858 3634
It’s worth wondering if the kind of Walmart that is going to be built might have a positive impact on sales or on the community.
There’s a Walmart coming to Wawarsing, NY. My town. That’s a fact and as a community, we’re ok with it. We’re at the planning board stage, debating the look right now with the developers. They want boxy, bland and economical. Flat roofs. The community members want style, though we might be dreaming. What’s in it for Walmart to even listen to us?
I imagine our Walmart faced with the bluestone that’s indigenous to the area and laid up expertly by Chicky Bell and his kid. (I realize getting Walmart to ante up for a building made entirely from stone might be a stretch, so just facing is fine. Chicky will do a great job either way).
There’d be a fine wood exterior trim detail that follows the dramatic vaulted roofline to its impressive peaks. They’d use local rough cut hemlock from Dave Waruch’s saw mill up the street and we’d all point to it, us shoppers, as we pull in visiting relatives to hold hands in a circle in the parking lot and marvel at the handiwork of Mike Dube, a local union carpenter and all around good guy. Then we’d all go in and buy!
The peaks of the roof , which would profile the majestic Catskills on one side and world famous Gunks on the other, would be picture perfect when the heavy snows come. It’ll have the charm of a European chalet! (Ok maybe not a chalet, but it wont look like the Walmart in South Bend Indiana either!). Eric and George of Valley Roofing will not have forgotten to put on snow cleats. They wont get called back for a leaking flat roof in 5 years. They’d also get to buy a new truck from Lonstein Dodge with the money from the contract.
It wouldn’t just be us towns folks buying goods. A spectacular, locally built structure would attract tourists from far away, I suspect, and boost the store’s bottom line. Why buy T-shirts at just any Walmart when you could buy them in a glorious, hand-crafted Walmart? See what I mean? It’d be worth the extra gas money to get here.
And all the town workers who built the unique building would have money to spend there. It makes sense in my dreams anyway.
I can imagine a stand of tall Norway spruces planted in front like a row of lockstep soldiers, visually protecting our valley, ever -present as deterrents to vandals too. Have you ever tried to graffiti tag a pine tree with spray paint? It’s really not easy.
It might be that the stylistic Walmart of my dreams could make lots of money for the locals and the company too. Maybe even rescue the area from the jobless doldrums as other stores follow and embrace the bold aesthetic. Walmart takes a well deserved pat on the back for breaking the mold and giving the folks what they want other than just low prices.
It might also be that the Walmart of my dreams will stay tucked away in my dreams. Someone pinch me.
By Wally Nichols
(203) 858 3634
It’s worth wondering if the kind of Walmart that is going to be built might have a positive impact on sales or on the community.
There’s a Walmart coming to Wawarsing, NY. My town. That’s a fact and as a community, we’re ok with it. We’re at the planning board stage, debating the look right now with the developers. They want boxy, bland and economical. Flat roofs. The community members want style, though we might be dreaming. What’s in it for Walmart to even listen to us?
I imagine our Walmart faced with the bluestone that’s indigenous to the area and laid up expertly by Chicky Bell and his kid. (I realize getting Walmart to ante up for a building made entirely from stone might be a stretch, so just facing is fine. Chicky will do a great job either way).
There’d be a fine wood exterior trim detail that follows the dramatic vaulted roofline to its impressive peaks. They’d use local rough cut hemlock from Dave Waruch’s saw mill up the street and we’d all point to it, us shoppers, as we pull in visiting relatives to hold hands in a circle in the parking lot and marvel at the handiwork of Mike Dube, a local union carpenter and all around good guy. Then we’d all go in and buy!
The peaks of the roof , which would profile the majestic Catskills on one side and world famous Gunks on the other, would be picture perfect when the heavy snows come. It’ll have the charm of a European chalet! (Ok maybe not a chalet, but it wont look like the Walmart in South Bend Indiana either!). Eric and George of Valley Roofing will not have forgotten to put on snow cleats. They wont get called back for a leaking flat roof in 5 years. They’d also get to buy a new truck from Lonstein Dodge with the money from the contract.
It wouldn’t just be us towns folks buying goods. A spectacular, locally built structure would attract tourists from far away, I suspect, and boost the store’s bottom line. Why buy T-shirts at just any Walmart when you could buy them in a glorious, hand-crafted Walmart? See what I mean? It’d be worth the extra gas money to get here.
And all the town workers who built the unique building would have money to spend there. It makes sense in my dreams anyway.
I can imagine a stand of tall Norway spruces planted in front like a row of lockstep soldiers, visually protecting our valley, ever -present as deterrents to vandals too. Have you ever tried to graffiti tag a pine tree with spray paint? It’s really not easy.
It might be that the stylistic Walmart of my dreams could make lots of money for the locals and the company too. Maybe even rescue the area from the jobless doldrums as other stores follow and embrace the bold aesthetic. Walmart takes a well deserved pat on the back for breaking the mold and giving the folks what they want other than just low prices.
It might also be that the Walmart of my dreams will stay tucked away in my dreams. Someone pinch me.
Hey Shower Guy...
To the guy at the gym…
…who left the bar of soap on the shower floor:
Well, thanks, I guess. I was the next person in and was just wondering at that exact moment we passed in the locker room what I was going to do to get clean (didn’t want to use the soap in the dispenser on the shower wall, a sentiment you obviously feel, too) To my sheer amazement, there was your used bar of mealy soap in the corner on the floor. Now granted it had some hair on it, but hey, isn’t soap, by definition, clean?? Exactly! THANK YOU!
So my heartfelt thanks as I soap up my privates and bring whatever diseases you have picked up over the years of your creepy, promiscuous, glory-holin' back to my precious family.
I’m just kidding, I never even touched it.
Seriously, did you think someone else was going to use the nasty soap after you turned it into your own private ass Chia Pet? I can’t imagine all the dark alleys you sent that poor thing down to get mugged before discarding it for the custodian to pick up in his rubber gloves and hazmat suit.
Proving once again, but for the suit and ties we occasionally wear, it’s a razor thin film between us and the monkey cage…
Next time can you leave some used dental floss for us too?
…who left the bar of soap on the shower floor:
Well, thanks, I guess. I was the next person in and was just wondering at that exact moment we passed in the locker room what I was going to do to get clean (didn’t want to use the soap in the dispenser on the shower wall, a sentiment you obviously feel, too) To my sheer amazement, there was your used bar of mealy soap in the corner on the floor. Now granted it had some hair on it, but hey, isn’t soap, by definition, clean?? Exactly! THANK YOU!
So my heartfelt thanks as I soap up my privates and bring whatever diseases you have picked up over the years of your creepy, promiscuous, glory-holin' back to my precious family.
I’m just kidding, I never even touched it.
Seriously, did you think someone else was going to use the nasty soap after you turned it into your own private ass Chia Pet? I can’t imagine all the dark alleys you sent that poor thing down to get mugged before discarding it for the custodian to pick up in his rubber gloves and hazmat suit.
Proving once again, but for the suit and ties we occasionally wear, it’s a razor thin film between us and the monkey cage…
Next time can you leave some used dental floss for us too?
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