Emily St. John Mandel's new novel Sea of Tranquility floats by in an otherworldly manner, which makes sense-- since it is beautifully written about other worlds, other times, other timelines, and other possibilities . . . and while there are ghosts of the post-apocalyptic, post-pandemic world of Station 11, the current COVID pandemic, and the author herself, the book flows by in an odd, serene state of hypothetical possibility, the possibility that the world is a simulation, the possibility that you might interview yourself, that you might go back in time and live a recursive life, the possibility of moving too fast and too far, and the possibility of being still, and the possibility that time and motion and memory might be corrupted like a bad file . . . this was a much smoother and philosophical read than the last time travel novel I read, The Paradox Hotel.
More Tennis Adventures
We enjoyed a nice 4-1 win yesterday against St Joe's-- especially since their players were all wound up for senior day-- unfortunately, we didn't know that their school does NOT have tennis courts, so we went all the way over there, drove around a bit on their campus, and then learned that they play in Thomas Edison Park-- which is right next to Highland Park-- so we drove over there, got started late, had a couple matches go into the third set (and Ian was in an endless match with a really strong athletic senior) and when we finally finished it off, I found out that the freshman Ethan had ordered Uber Eats-- McDonald's-- but Ethan couldn't find the driver and this generally pissed me off because I had to be home to get to the GMC seeding meeting to learn about the county tournament so we searched the park for a few minutes for the delivery guy, but it's a giant park and the guy was way late, so I told Ethan to get a refund-- which he did-- and we headed home and I told the entire team to check with me before they did anything stupid (such as order food to be delivered to an enormous park).
People Are More Different Than You Believe
One of the essential things I always try to remember is that there are lots of people that genuinely believe things-- holy things, moral things, sciencey things, etcetera-- and that is going to be really important going forward with oncoming the Roe v. Wade conflict . . . as a nonbeliever in most things, aside from the fact that sports with a ball are a good way to spend your time, I have to recognize that a bunch of folks with very vehement beliefs about where and when and under what circumstances you can abort a fetus are going to scream and shout at one another and many of us that have no clue as to the right and wrong of this are going to get caught in the crossfire.
A Tough Loss and a Tough Win
Monday we had a big match against Metuchen which will probably determine the winner of the White Division-- and the two smallest schools by a large margin are at the top of the leaderboard-- and while the match started ugly for us, we made a nice comeback and Alex-- at second singles-- came up with a big win against last year's first singles player; Ian, unfortunately, had to play their young phenom, who stepped right into the first singles slot, and though Ian took an early lead, he lost the first set-- and he asked me what to do when "all this kid hits are winners" and I told him to hit it deep and hang in, which he did and he won the second set 6-3 so they headed to a third; meanwhile, Boyang was struggling at third singles, and our first and second doubles lost the first set- so I thought it was over-- but apparently the second doubles team are crazy twin brothers (two of three triplets) who are great athletes but often flake out, which they did and so our second doubles won the second and third sets, Alex won his match-- epic-- Boyang and first doubles lost; so it was two -two and it all came down to Ian at first singles-- and he pulled the heavy hitter into a third set but then went down 4-0 and it looked like all was lost . . . but Ian won four in a row and then split, so it was 5-5 (and the text strand to my wife was getting more and more insane) and then they fought it out to the end and Ian lost 7-5 . . . unfortunate, but-- as I reminded the team-- most teams are playing for nothing right now, so the fact that we got to play a huge match at the end of the season is what it's all about . . . especially as a coach and a dad, I was happy to be there and happy to be involved-- anyway, we had to recover to play South Plainfield, another good team, who beat Wardlaw twice on Monday-- a very good team-- and Ian recovered and won against a good player in two sets, but we had troubles elsewhere so it all came down to second doubles-- and they were bickering a bit when the match went to a third set-- but we were able to calm them down and they won the third set 6-2, giving us an excellent victory after a tough loss (and, as a side note, Alex had an AP test yesterday-- AP Calc BC-- and he won his match, and Ian had an AP test today-- AP Lang-- and he won, so I told both my kids those were banner days, more happened in a day that will often happen in a year of adulthood).
Like the Shining, But With Time Travel
If you're looking for a fast-paced novel with gender fluidity and plenty of time travel, set in a spooky hotel, then you'll love Rob Hart's The Paradox Hotel . . . but if you like your mysteries to have a linear plot, then this book . . . maybe not.
Stacey Summons the Dead
Stacey and I have the same schtick when we begin Hamlet-- we both play the role of Horatio, who-- in the opening moments of the play-- is skeptical of ghosts and the supernatural . . . Marcellus explains, "Horatio says 'tis but our fantasy, And will not let belief take hold of him" and Horatio, in reference to the apparition, confidently asserts "tush, tush, 'twill not appear" but, moments after he says this, the ghost of Old Hamlet DOES appear and, after some good natured "I told you so!" by Barnardo (How now, Horatio! You tremble and look pale.Is not this something more than fantasy? What think you on't?) Horatio admits that "Before my God, I might not this believe without the sensible and true avouch of mine own eyes" and just before the apparition enters, Stacey and I always ask the class if they believe in ghosts, then chastise the believers for their irrationality and then we try to summon the dead, call upon the spirit world to strike us dead and stop our hearts, etc . . . and there are usually a few kids who get upset by this-- who don't think we should fuck around with the netherworld, whether we believe in it or not-- but we've never been haunted or struck dead . . . until now-- apparently last week, the night after Stacey did her ghost bit, she was visited by a spirit in the night, a little girl in a green sweatshirt that hovered over her bed-- twice!-- and she woke her husband up but he didn't see her and now she wonders if there might be spirits walking the earth, and she wonders if she has summoned them . . . but of course, I think she was dreaming or saw a shadow or whatever, as I am a logical and rational man-of-logic who would never be perturbed by such rubbish.
Happy Mother's Day?
Mother's Day did not start off so well this year-- Catherine's shoulder pain was so intense she couldn't sleep, despite various muscle relaxants, painkillers, and some wine-- so we went to the emergency room at Robert Wood Johnson this morning, and while Cat was in serious pain, the emergency room experience was as good as it gets-- everyone was super-kind and the procedures were fast and efficient, and she was able to get x-rays, a lidocaine patch, some kind of painkiller shot in her other arm, a prescription for anti-inflammatories and a diagnosis: calcific tendonitis, which is painful but better than a torn rotator cuff . . . and while i was picking up her prescription at the pharmacy, the pharmacist recognized me-- I taught him many years ago (he's 27 now) and he remembered the social experiment I did during Orwell's Shooting an Elephant," because he was my confidant in the ruse-- I kicked him out of class to demonstrate some elements of the narrative-- and he fondly remembered this, so that was a fun moment in an otherwise lousy day (but at least Lola is on the mend, and hopefully Cat will be better once she gets a steady does of naproxen in her system).
All Blue Food
All Blue Seafood and Ramen House is now just called All Blue Chinese Cuisine and no longer has ramen-- it's now a Sichuan Place and the food is delicious (and very authentic, according to reviews) and it's BYOB and fairly cheap; they give you some cold spicy potato strings in vinegar to start and you order by checking boxes on a paper menu-- we had Dan Dan noodles and spicy potatoes and beef with scallions -- the beef was really good-- and some wontons in chili oil . . . we will bring the kids next time and order more stuff, but this is a good one to try, just out of town on Route 27.
TGIFF
Thank God it's fucking Friday . . . what a week: Catherine woke up on Tuesday and she couldn't lift her right arm and had to go to urgent care and get a steroid shot for severe tendonitis in her shoulder and she's in terrible pain, unable to sleep, and on steroids and muscle relaxants; Lola was up in the middle of the night, needing to pee, and then had an accident on a couch cushion-- which never ever happens-- so she either passed a kidney stone or has a UTI; I had to write up a preponderance of evidence for my summary evaluation; I covered three classes this week, all on my three period teaching days-- so three days this week, I spent every minute of the day with children; more tennis matches have been canceled due to rain; not only did the Supreme Court Roe vs Wade doc get leaked, but so did a doc about changing our school start and end time, which frightened a number of people; AP testing is in full chaotic swing, for both my students and my own children; I had a nightmare ride to the vet this afternoon with the urine sample, and after fighting through traffic, had to wait in the parking lot for a long time until I told them I was just dropping off the urine and leaving because traffic was building up and I might never get home, and so I handed over the urine and beat a hasty retreat back to Highland Park-- but when I got out of the car, Lola yanked loose because she saw the mailman and she barked at him, as dogs are won to do at the mailman and it frightened the dude and he dropped a bunch of mail in a puddle and I had to apologize profusely-- so fucking embarassing-- and it's going to rain for a long long time . . . so if our basement doesn't flood, my wife's arm starts working again, and Lola doesn't have a UTI, we'll be through the thick of it.
How Far Would YOU Drive For an Abortion?
This post-Roe Map of America is going to inspire some interesting abortion travel campaigns: come to Chicago and stroll the Riverwalk, sample the deep-dish pizza, and get an abortion . . . visit Miami, for the Art Deco architecture, the Cuban sandwiches, the beaches, and the abortions . . . but, in the end this will be something of a class issue, because if you can't afford to travel and you need an abortion in Mississippi, you're going to be SOL.
He's Your Pusherman
Good outing for Highland Park yesterday, we beat Piscataway-- a Group IV school-- five to zero and while they weren't all that good in most positions, their first singles player was 5-2 and a classic skilled junk ball pusher-- the kind of player that drives decent high school players absolutely crazy . . . especially my son Ian who just wants to play some good tennis-- he's happy to lose a match where both players are hitting the hell out of the ball but can't stand just bopping it back-- but after a game the Piscataway player realized he couldn't beat Ian at fast-paced tennis so he started pushing and Ian made the usual errors, tried to hit too hard, got too close to the net, and got frustrated-- he fell behind 4-1 and then realized that all he had to do was push back and give the kid a taste of his own medicine, so he started lobbing on him and it was windy and the kid got gradually more and more pissed off and Ian came all the way back and won the first set and then slowly, so slowly, beat him handily in the second set-- by the end the kid was hitting all kinds of bizarre cut shots, serving underhand, and trying every trick in the book, but Ian stayed the course and never freaked out and got the win on a kid who beat everyone but the best players in the White with the weirdest, most annoying tennis strategy on record.
New Shit Has Come to Light
The Ticks are Back in Town
In My House, The Apple Falls Right Next to the Tree
Yesterday afternoon, I yelled up the stairs to my older son Alex, who is eighteen now, and asked him what kind of roll he wanted for his burger and he yelled back "Dad, I'm trying to take a nap!" which made perfect sense since he had worked all day for the County Parks, doing trail maintenance, and when I came back into the kitchen my wife said, "Who does that sound like?" and she laughed and laughed.
Spring is in the Air (Among Other Odors)
Lovely spring day: excellent for reading on the back deck, listening to the wind rustling through the bamboo, watching the birds alight amongst the budding trees, and smelling-- occasionally amidst the fresh scents of newly bloomed flowers-- the decaying scent of sweaty feet from the many sneakers airing out on the railing.
Thus Endeth the Streak
We finally dropped a White Division match-- after seven wins-- but I couldn't be more proud of my team; we traveled to the super-fancy private school Wardlaw Hartridge, a team that we edged out last match 3-2 because Ian beat their superb first singles player, but Wardlaw have been hot of late and they were confident at the start of the match and all of our players except second doubles went down a set and I thought we would have an early exit and a quick and painless loss-- but we had some fight in us; I was especially proud of Ian, who battled back and won the second set in a tiebreaker; then first doubles won the second set and third singles followed and we were in a match-- it was tied 1-1 with the other three matches in the third set; Ian and his kid played an amazing match to the death, really fantastic tennis-- they were whipping two-handed backhands back and forth and getting to everything, and though Ian lost there was no shame in it; then our doubles team lost, ending the streak, but Ethan came through at third singles to make the score a respectable 3-2 loss . . . and so we reload for next week, which will be wacky because of stupid AP tests, and we'll see if we can start a new winning streak (and, though we are the smallest school in the White by far, we are still atop the division).
Gametime Decision
After our marathon tennis match in the freezing wind and cold yesterday . . . and after driving a couple kids home, trying to get some food at Coco-- which was closed-- we ended up getting burritos at Crazy Burrito in Edison, a little authentic Mexican place, and I got a chorizo burrito and the kids got barbacoa-- and when we got home, at 8 PM-- so five hours from when we left the high school parking lot-- Alex and I noticed that Ian's styrofoam burrito contained had the word "goat" written on it, but rather than tell him he was eating goat (and facing the possibility that he wouldn't want to eat it, though he was cold and hungry) we kept the information to ourselves, and he wolfed down the goat without pause (I told him today and he didn't seem concerned and then we checked the menu and apparently Alex ate goat as well).
A Close One
Away match today at JFK High School in Iselin and things did not start well--our line-up was something of a mess, with a couple kids at a math competition and a couple kids just in from Georgia (DECA trip) and then our van driver took a wrong turn . . . onto the Garden State Parkway and we took a detour over the Driscoll Bridge-- but we made it on time and it was cold and very very windy and we had to get started right away and-- aside from second doubles-- we went down in all our matches; soon enough, second doubles won handily and first doubles looked to be doing well (but Boyang was very tired from the trip) but our singles players were struggling; Ethan was down a set, Ian was playing great but faced the best player in the White Division-- he was 12 - 0-- and Alex was nursing a strained hamstring and struggling; he ended up losing the first set, but then winning the second set in a tiebreaker; the same thing happened to Ethan the freshman at third singles-- then our first doubles team collapsed and lost, and there seemed to be some cheating from the opposition so the coaches had to watch-- and Alex gutted it out-- once again-- and he clobbered his kid in the third set (he basically got the kid to give up) and the match was tied 2-2 and it all came down to Ethan in a third set tiebreaker and it went back and forth back and forth in the gusty wind, past the seven point mark, to 8 - 8 and then Ethan won apoint, and-- ahead by one and pumped up beyond belief, instead of hitting his usual dinky spin serve, he tossed the ball ahead of him with a long left arm and clobbered it, and his opponent was able to get a bit of racket on it but no strings and it whipped by him into the fence . . . and there was much rejoicing (and we are 7 - 0 in our division and only have one loss on the books, to a superteam that we though we were scrimmaging but apparently the match does count, but we've got another brutal match on Friday and Alex will most likely be out with a strained hamstring).
Surviving Tuesday
Tuesday is my least favorite day of the week-- no fresh Monday energy and no end to the week in sight-- but I survived today's Tuesday without major mishap: while I did slightly screw up my Richard III/War of the Roses chart that I drew on the board (I mistakenly put a line indicating betrothal from Anne Neville, Warwick's daughter, to Henry VI instead of his son Edward . . . shame on me!) this was balanced out by the fact that my van healed itself, and the three check engine lights that were on magically turned themselves off this morning.
Billy Bob = Law?
Goliath is the weirdest, most surreal legal drama I've ever seen-- the first season seemed like it was going to be in the vicinity of Better Call Saul but each season gets more and more obtuse, philosophical, and abstract . . . my whole family loves it, for no good reason other than it's weird and Billy Bob is a lot of fun to watch, but I wonder what an actual lawyer would make of it.