Boston!

Part of the boys' holiday gift was a trip to Boston to see the world premiere of the new musical Wonder, based on a book all three of them enjoyed. The show was incredible -- super talented cast, terrific music and a timely, timeless message: choose kind.
Hank was so overcome by emotion that I was not the only one sobbing at the standing ovation, and Tolliver begged to go back again the next night.

We spent hours at Harvard's Museum of Natural History, glad to be there for Blaschka's glass models of plants but captivated by so many things. Tucker carried around a clipboard, examining insects as if he were trying to create one himself.

At the New England Aquarium the boys were fascinated by the elephantnose fish in the African river exhibit, and by the penguins playing with an errant infant pacifier. 

A quick walk through the Collection of Historical Scientific Instruments allowed Tolliver's humor to shine, magnifying fart jokes and "teaching" Harvard's hardest course, Math 55, covering his take on something like "advanced calculus with quantum geometry and theoretical algebra."

The big draw at Boston's Museum of Fine Arts were Homer Winslow's paintings, mostly of trout and fisherman and seashores, but the collection of musical instruments grabbed our attention too.

We walked a lot and wore several layers against the wind, stepping on the Freedom Trail in a few spots and stopping in Faneuil Hall and the public library. We also had the opportunity to define words like phallic and erected to Hank, who did not understand why his brothers were laughing next to Paul Revere's grave.

You never know how a little getaway might lead to a chapter in some bigger story, be it watercolors or musical theater, entomology or conservation, capacity for imagination or education... but none of us will be surprised when one day in the future there's a string that ties back to this trip in some way.

December's never felt so long

The cousins don't want to line up along the stairs and smile for the camera in cozy new holiday jammies, wild behavior when Santa is literally on his way to town, but the grown ups are getting used to things that will not be happening again*, at least not exactly the same way.

Caroling with neighbors, an annual event - but this year with our high school kids! - felt like going to church for some spiritual support, an ad-hoc pastor in the piano keys, the kind of together that seemed as if it's always been.

Traditions evolve.

I try to imagine the boys in some future, maybe in their thirties, during the holidays. Nothing is perfect, but they are comfortable with that, doing things they enjoy and celebrating others doing the same. They find meaning in people, not things and not rituals that aren’t right for them. They are content with enough. And they are this way because they understand that more is not more when it comes at the expense of a healthy mind. That relationships surpass good china and expensive gifts. 

* the last line of Tony Hoagland's poem Into the Mystery feels like a good reminder at the end of the year...

as you continue moving through these days and years

where more and more the message is not to measure anything.