The Spoffords: More Stories from Growing Up

When I first started this blog, I was chalk full of ideas.  As time has gone on, I have begun to realize why I did not choose a profession as a writer.  I have sat down a number of times and tried to make ideas spontaneously pop into my head, and sometimes it just doesn't happen.  I sat down today intending to write all about Boston and the things I enjoy about living here, but after being unhappy with the initial product, I am going to revert back to talking about the thing I love most: my family!  Here are some more stories from the past:

Josh and I in the fall leaves

Road Trip: Maine--> Vermont--> New York --> Maine

The comedy of errors for this trip started a little bit too early.  In fact, it started before the trip even began.  Like all Spofford road trips, we planned to get on the road early, so we could maximize our time at the destination.  Our destination initially was Burlington, VT.  We were stopping there, because my Mom was a graduate of University of Vermont and wanted my older brothers to take a look at it.  Anyways, our big red van was all packed and ready to roll.  The boys were piled in, excited for a long (reasonably comfortable) trip to Vermont.  We had our movies picked out and we were excited!  Dad got in the van, put the key in the ignition, turned the key... and nothing....  The van didn't start. Of all the things that could go wrong, this was one of the worst.  Dad quickly got the jeep ready to jump the van's batteries in hopes that it was only a light that had been left on overnight.  He got the cables hooked up, started the charge... and again, nothing.  The van's battery was dead as a doornail.  Of course, we didn't have time to bring the car into the shop to get the battery replaced, so we went with the past of least (or most depending on who you ask) resistance.  We unloaded to the van and quickly transferred all of our stuff into the green jeep.  Now in most cases, this switch would have been fine and we would have had a comfortable ride.  But with six family members and only five seats to go around, our drive suddenly became a literal squeeze.  Isaiah and I double buckled in the front, while Joe, Josh, and Mom sat in the back. Instead of a 6 hour ride filled with movies and comfort, I got six hours of lap sitting with Isaiah.  Fun Fact: Nothing brings people closer than double buckling for six hours.  Somehow, we made it to Burlington without killing each other, but the fun didn't stop there.  We arrived in time to walk around the downtown area (which is beautiful by the way), and go find someplace to eat dinner.  As we were walking, a Volkswagen Beetle passed by us on the streets.  Naturally one of us was going to punch buggy someone else.  Josh decided that it would be hilarious to punch my dad in the arm.  After a long day of switching cars and driving, it was not the best idea.  Josh slugged Dad in the arm as hard as he could.  Needless to say, Josh was quickly in the doghouse.  As we walked further down the road, Josh realized that the sun had gone down and my dad was still wearing his sunglasses.  Josh (who was still in the doghouse) turned to my dad and said "Hey Dad, why are you wearing sunglasses when it's not even sunny out?"  All of the boys giggled, but immediately stopped when dad gave us the "If you don't stop now it's not going to be pretty look."  We finally found a place to eat and the mood lightened up.  

The next day, we loaded up the Jeep, this time we decided that instead of going two in the front, we would try four in the back.  Imagine that, four boys all sitting in a back seat intended for three people.  If you thought three boys in three seats was bad, this was a recipe for disaster.  We all sat cramped together, complaining about our lack of space, pleading for the others to move over (but of course, we had no room). Shortly, however we found a way to get our aggression out.  We went one at a time, punching each other in the legs.  The game ended, when all the other boys had dropped out due to pain intolerance.  We were such smart kids...  As I remember, the rest of the trip went really quite smoothly.

Hiking Trip at Gulf Hagas:

From my own personal point of view, this trip was doomed from the very start.  A little backstory before I delve into the actual events that happened at Gulf Hagas.  First, I was going into eighth grade.  As a fourteen year old, I understood that girls existed and my greatest goal (other than becoming a professional soccer player) was to hang out with the ladies (which I was not actually so good at).  Secondly,  I was finally invited to a pool party which I knew was going to be co-ed (YES!). Third, everyone that was anyone was also going to be at said pool party (it was going to be the event of the summer).  Now that you know all of that, I can tell you that I did not in fact get to attend the pool party.  Up to that point in my life, that may have been the hardest pill that I had to swallow (I know... hard life).  Anyways, the day that party was supposed to happen also coincided with Josh departing for soccer camp in Maryland.  My parents decided that rather than just drop Josh at the Bangor Airport and return home (the option that I was pulling for) that they would instead drop Josh off and drag me and Isaiah to edge of the 100 mile wilderness to for a day long hike.  I was miserable.  Looking back, I feel really bad for my parents for having to put up with my attitude throughout the day.  I was being a real jerk.  I also regret not taking the time to appreciate my surroundings, because Gulf Hagas is truly breathtaking.  In other circumstances I'm sure I would have been able to take my blinders off.  Anyways, we arrived at Gulf Hagas.  I cannot recall how long of a hike it actually was, but it was not a hike for slouches. After a few hours of hiking and complaining, we were walking along a narrow strip of land, and I stepped on a wet rock.  My feet slid out from under me, and I began to roll down the hill to my left.  Fortunately, this was not a steep cliff face or I would have been in real trouble.  I rolled for a short time and I settled on a landing just below me.  As I slowed, my leg swung quickly over the top and slammed onto a sharp rock.  At first, it felt like any other bump or bruise that I had gotten in my life.  If the rock had been rounded, it likely would have been just that.  I peered down to assess my injuries and was struck in horror as I looked into a cut that was much deeper than I had seen before.  Right in the middle of my left shin, my leg had been gashed pretty good.  I didn't cry when it initially happened, but upon seeing the results, tears rushed to my eyes.  I climbed quickly back to the trail, where my parents rushed into action.  They applied pressure and got it all wrapped up to minimize the bleeding as much as possible, and we turned back to head down the trail.  The worst part of all of this (other than not being able to go to the pool party) was that the highlight of the trail (the natural water slides) were literally right around the corner.  I hobbled down the trail, where we met the stream that stood between us and our car.  On the way up, the stream was no problem because we all just walked through, but being cautious, my parents did not want my cut to be exposed to the fresh water. Eighth grade Noah climbed onto my Dad's back and we began to ford the stream at the low point to try to find the best footing.  He made it a few steps, but was made nervous by the slippery rocks.  We regrouped on the shoreline to try to find a spot where we could go across rock to rock.  After having limited luck, my Mom decided that we were getting across the stream no matter what.  So, eighth grade Noah climbed onto my Mom's back this time and we started going slowly across the stream.  My Dad (who is known to be stubborn on occasion) was convinced that he could find a dry route across the stream and continued to search the shoreline.  When we were about halfway across the stream, Mom and I heard a blood curdling "OH SH*T" (sorry Dad, it completes the story...).  We turned just in time to see Dad going down, in what seemed like slow motion, and smash his head on a rock.  I am glad that my leg hit the sharp rock and not his head.  So here I was, missing the party of the year, bleeding out of my shin, on my Mom's back, looking back at Dad, who had likely just concussed himself on a rock.  I broke.  The tears rushed down my face and I tensed up so badly.  My mom quickly and calmly said, "Noah, we have to get through this," and in true Kay Spofford fashion, slowly, calmly, and methodically took each step forward and got us safely to the other side of the stream.  Fortunately, Dad was able to collect himself and make his way across as well, but not with sustaining quite the face bruise.  We loaded up the car, Dad half dazed, me with my leg elevated and made the 2.5 hour drive home.  We arrived at the hospital, where I received 6 stitched in my shin.  Dad, true to his nature refused to receive care because he didn't want to pay more than was necessary.  We finally made it home, ordered Thai food, and settled in for the evening.  It was certainly a day I will never forget.  Also, for what it's worth, the friends that went to the party said that it was not as great as I thought it was going to be.

Neighborhood Ordinances:

When I was very small, I lived in Mississippi for 5 years.  I can remember snippets of my time down there. Especially time spent outdoors, playing soccer, and special occasions.  One of the things, however, that I do remember very well was my family's (particularly Dad's) propensity for breaking the neighborhood ordinances.  When we were in Mississippi, we lived in a very primped and proper subdivision.  All of the lawns were well manicured and the people were always polite (good old Southern manners).  Anyways, as members of this neighborhood, we were expected to follow several ordinances set by the subdivision committee.  The following list are some of the ordinances I remember:

• Christmas lights that are hung outdoors must be white lights
• If you are playing tennis, you must play in a shirt
• Garage doors must be closed unless you are pulling your car in
• There are to be no yard or garage sales
• The swimming pool gate must be closed and locked once you enter

I'm sure there are many more, but I can't remember them.  Dad would have much more to say.  I will say a little bit about each of these and how they related to our family.

1. Christmas lights:  I'm not sure if Dad was making a statement or intentionally being obstinate, but every year, rather than hang up the traditionally expected white lights, Dad always hung colored lights.  I know as kids we always encouraged him to do this, because we thought they were prettier.  So while every other house in the neighborhood hung their white lights, our house stood out like a sore thumb with it's bright multi-colored lights.
2. Tennis shirt: If you were unaware, Mississippi is really hot.  My parents played tennis often, and while the expectation was that the game should be played with a shirt, my Dad always played without a shirt.  It seemed every time that they would go play tennis, the "Pool Man" as my Dad called him would come along and look on a politely remind Dad of the policy.  While Mom and Dad played tennis, Isaiah and I often watched or played together on the side of the court.  Next to the court, was a boat marina, which was covered by a tin roof.  On occasion, Mom and Dad's hits would get away from them and the ball would end up on top of this roof.  As the ball boy, I would crawl under the fance, scale the wall and go on top of the roof, where I would retrieve the balls that Mom or Dad hit up there.  I think that we were the only family that practiced this retrieval style, because not only did I get Mom and Dad's balls, but also any other ball that was hit up there.  After the first can of balls that my parents bought, I don't think that they had to pay for a ball ever again!
3. Garage doors:  Other than evenings, I don't remember a time when our garage door was ever closed.  The boys were in and out so often that it would have made absolutely no sense to keep them shut.
4. Garage sales:  A little bit before we moved back to Maine, much to the neighborhood's dismay, my parents held a really large garage sale to get rid of a lot of the stuff we couldn't take.  I remember there was a garage sale hunter woman who arrived at our house around 5 am and made a deal with Mom and Dad to take most of the stuff for a set cost.  She was quite committed to buying our stuff.  She also came the day before the sale as well.  It was so absurd!
5. Swimming pool doors:  We were terrible culprits of the swimming pool door.  We would often invite friends from other neighborhoods to come swimming with us.  Rather than close and lock the door behind us, I can remember sticking a rock in the door so it wouldn't lock so that our friends could come in when they arrived.

Looking back on it, I think some of these rules were so ridiculous, and also ridiculous that we were also always breaking the rules.  We were definitely northerners living in a southern community, and the people around us knew that as well.  I definitely have more to write about living in Mississippi, but I will save that for another time.  

That's it for today! Until next time!!

   

Camp 2016

Nearly one week ago to the hour, I left camp en route back to Boston.  As I sat on the bus, I began trying to type this blog.  Every time I typed something, I went back and read it, and decided to scrap it, because it just didn't capture what I was trying to say about my time at camp this summer.  Camp is such a crazy vortex to me, because everything that happens there happens so quickly and intensely that once it ends there is this massive camp sized hole that is left to fill in.  Now, nearly a week later, I am finally feeling myself returning to a more normal, settled state of mind, thus am much better able to tangibly organize my thoughts (I think).  The more I have thought about starting this blog, the more ideas that came to mind about how I wanted to structure it.  At first it was going to be a general summary, then a love/hate (hate mostly had to do with hating the goodbyes), and it was nearly a more poignant piece, patch-working specific events.  Then as I really got to thinking about this and camp, it truly makes the most sense to write this as a letter.  Mike, our director, used letters throughout the summer to illustrate the positive (and some negative) experiences as written by camper parents.  He read letters from camp alum, telling us just how important this eight week (nine for some) job really is for kids.  Finally, he closed the season by reading us a letter that he wrote himself.  Every Tuesday morning, campers and staff alike write letters home, telling their parents about their great experiences, delicious food, and funny counselors.  Some folks even send letters when they aren't required.  Therefore, here is my letter to camp:

To Camp:

Where to begin?  You have provided me an incredible job for the last nine summers.  Each and every time I drive down your driveway, no matter what time of year, I am filled with the same warm, happy feeling.  Thank you for being unceasingly beautiful.  Living in the city during the school year and being able to escape to one of the most picturesque lakeside camps there is to offer is a true pleasure.  Whether it is seeing the sun rise over Fernald's Neck (see left), watching the sunset illuminate the sky in vibrant neon shades, laying on chapel rocks to look at the stars (and this year a beautiful meteor shower), or just looking out across the lake at any given point in the day, it always makes me feel like I'm home.  I am a person who is definitely a little bit afraid of the dark, but for some reason, when I am at camp I feel very secure and at ease.  I can walk around most of camp in the dark without feeling anxious (a feeling I have trouble replicating anywhere else).  Each building comes with an endless list of memories attached (I would need another blog to even touch on those). 

To the POOPs and Mike:

(Sorry Stephen, Jack, and Mike for the omission)

We made it!  I know that there were times this summer when it felt as though summer was never going to end.  When we finished planning one ACA, lo and behold another one was staring us in the face (same with wide games).  When it finally felt like there was a moment to rest, just kidding, there are camper issues that we have to deal with.  We were definitely stretched thin this year, but I felt that our experience and strength within our niches served us really well and kept us rolling along smoothly.  For all the chaos that we felt, I sincerely believe that the staff and campers had a phenomenal summer.  On a personal level, I am so happy I was able to work closely with four such amazing people.  In many of my summers past,  I have very distinctly felt a power struggle in some way or another, but this year I didn't get that feeling.  Some of it had to do with the new structure, but I know that much more of that can be attributed to our friendship and as part of that, our honesty with each other.  Thank you all for helping keep all the pieces together and providing an excellent summer!

To the counselors:

 When I was a cabin counselor in 2008-2011, I was convinced that we were in the glory years for cabin counselors.  I mean think about it: Andrew Massey, Cullen O'Brien, Jack Pettine, Katherine Rattey, Alice Tackett, Amy Johnston, Catherine Johnston, Emily LaPointe, Kelsie Stevens, Liz Pride, Libby Mazzeo, Tricia Labbe, Sam Alfieri, Abbie Duquette (and so many more).  For the longest time, I was convinced that Camp Bishopswood had hit its peak and that level of kindess, creativity, and love of camp could not be matched.  I am happy to say that I was wrong.  The Bishopswood staff of 2016 was absolutely incredible.  If someone told me that come 2017 the staff was going to stay exactly the same, I would literally jump for joy.  Since I am a camp dinosaur, I know that other factors of life get in the way and prevent people from returning, but I am so happy with the base and culture that you all helped build.  It is because of people like you we have campers who come to stay at camp for entire summers or come year after year.  It is a true joy to see smiles light up campers' faces when they learn that they will have the same counselors they had the year before, and to watch campers admire their counselors with awe as they lip sync Wrecking Ball.  Watching camp from a bird's eye view provides a truly incredible perspective into the way that you all made campers feel special and valued no matter what.  I knew from the beginning that this was a group that was at camp for all the right reasons and I was not disappointed.  It was a pleasure to witness the growth and maturity from returning counselors as well as the quick uptake from the new staff.  Aside from the program stuff, this year provided me with some of my most memorable big group time hang outs as well.  They were great, because you all were not only looking for incredible things to do, but wanted to do them with as many staff members as possible.  Going to Salmon Falls to cliff jump and rope swing was so sick.  I remember before we left thinking: "this could be a really long trip," but as it went along, I really didn't want it to end.  Then, a few weeks later, when the whole staff went out to Friendship (a truly fitting name) (Thank you Julian and Chloe), it was unsurprisingly a real treat.  This year, for the first time in a few years for sure, I feel like I got to know more staff, really well than I had before.  Although it was a tiring summer, I looked forward to staying up until 11 hanging out with every body, and then chances (small though they were) throughout the day to get caught up in conversation.  Best of luck to all of you this year, and I hope to see you back at camp next summer! 

To the campers:
Campers, THANK YOU!  Without all of you, camp would literally not be possible.  You provide us with laughs (mostly with you), challenges, stories, jokes, and overall joy.  It is because of you all that the staff comes together each year to give you your best summer experience possible.  You bring out the best, most creative, kindest side in all of us.  Occasionally, you may bring out some crankiness too (but we appreciate that as well).  Thank you for coming to camp with excitement and a joy for experiencing all that camp has to offer.  Thank you for going to the water front and getting in even on those cold mornings.  Thank you for signing up for activities that were not your first choice and showing up and participating in them as if they were!  Thank you for humoring Drew and listening to all of his announcements.  Thank you for memorable meal time conversations.  I could go on and on, but I think people are probably bored by now.  You all make camp the place that it is, so thank you for letting us do our thing and following it along even when we are being most ridiculous!

To my weekday time-off crew:

One of my favorite spots in Waterville

If you told me that some of my best friends at camp this summer would be three 19 year olds (yes, I know, Alyssa just turned 19), I probably would have laughed it off.  However, I would have been wrong.  Although we only had two days off together (I dropped the ball on the first one), I sincerely had a great time.  Typical times off usually look a little something like this: Hope General Store, Skinny Dip Rock, Nap, Camden (Long Grain), Movie?, Back to camp, Sleep. Maybe breakfast out.  However, with Alyssa, Julian, and Kirstyn, we didn't do that, so thank you!  Thank you for letting me take you to Waterville (Winslow) to show you what my hometown had to offer!  Alyssa and Kirstyn, sorry on behalf of my Dad for trying to pawn you off onto my relatives!  Thank you for putting up with my endless rounds of questions and addictive shopping habits.  Julian, thank you for driving, and although your music wasn't always what Alyssa wanted to listen to, I really liked it!  I look forward to keeping in touch with you all and planning our next "time off" together!

Final Thoughts:
When I first started this summer I arrived thinking "Could this be it for me? Am I getting to old?"  The thoughts lingered for about a week, then they quickly disappeared as the summer began to roll.  I definitely had a peaks and valleys summer, but only because I felt like I was pouring so much of my energy into the program.  Week 6 nearly got me, but thanks to kind words and a great staff, I pulled my way out to have an amazing week 7.  In summary, I made great friends, got addicted to coffee for week (not for me), went on a rope swing, planned games for 100 kids, saw my first meteor shower, swam in the ocean, swam in the lake (many times), got a tan line, ate delicious food, strengthened friendships, learned a lot about laundromats, purchased a razor scooter, did a triathlon, spent the night in the health hut, played some pranks, wore a crop top, and most importantly, I got the chance to participate in an amazing camp doing amazing things!

Thank you all for a fantastic summer!  Keep in touch!

See you next summer,

Noah

     

The Importance of Play

"Boys, it's a beautiful day, go outside!"

That was one of the most common phrases that I heard growing up.  It came from my mom, dad, aunts, uncles, and many more!  It was clear they were on the same page, as if they were plotting something against us.  I am sure that their intentions were two-fold. 1) They genuinely wanted us to go outside, because it was a beautiful day out.  2) The games that were played outside were often more active than our indoor games, thus making us more tired when it came time to get us in bed. On occasion, my parents were met with a little push-back from us, as we wanted to stay in and play video games, but with a little persistence, they usually came out on top.  When we went outside, we were free to do what we pleased.  Usually (especially on weekends), my parents would also be out in the yard planting flowers, doing yardwork, or just hanging out.  While we played, my parents seldom interrupted, save the random snack or meal break.  We always knew where we could find them if there was any trouble and they knew where to look if they needed to gather us up.  These times of "free play" helped shaped my growth, taught me many important lessons, as well as how to cope when exposed to adversity.  Therein lies the subject matter of today's blog!


1. If you want to play you have to prove it.
One of the best things about our neighborhood in Mississippi was that it was so young!  Our street and neighboring streets brimmed with young families with kids.  This meant that there was always some sort of activity going on.  We would most often fill our time playing pick-up sports and that was perfectly fine with me!  Football, baseball, and soccer were probably the most prominent activities that the neighborhood kids chose to do.  Of the kids that wanted to play, I was the youngest.  I can remember early on, I would watch from a distance while the older kids organized their games.  I wanted to play so badly!  I usually had a ball in hand throwing it to myself hoping that they would notice.  Finally one day, I worked up the courage, marched over to the game and asked if I could join in.  Joe and Josh were definitely hesitant at first, not wanting me to get hurt, but eventually agreed to let me play.  At first I was just happy to be out there, but the more I played, the more involved I wanted to be.  Obviously, if I didn't stand out, I would just be a warm body out there, so I had to make plays: pretty big responsibility for a first or second grader.  With this knowledge, I practiced on my own, and surprised the older kids with my adept, confident nature.  If my parents had been out there monitoring the games and make sure that everyone had an equal opportunity, it is very unlikely that I would have worked as hard as I did, and thus show less improvement in skills.  Any time I had the chance, I was outside juggling the soccer ball, or catching self-thrown pop flies, and was able to improve.  My spot on the pick-up game depth chart went from last pick to somewhere closer to the middle.


2. Learn to be tough.
Eventually, I earned the right to try to be the running back in our backyard pick-up tackle football.  Not only was I the youngest player out there, but by far the smallest.  Through my time playing with the "big boys," I showed true fearlessness (not sure what happened to me as I got older).  The same grit applied to me as a running back.  Looking back, I am sure that the kids weren't exactly laying into me, but they definitely weren't going easy either.  I couldn't afford to show fear or I'd be out of the game, so when I got the ball, I would put my head down and run as elusively as I could.  Defense wasn't any different.  The boys did put me as the safety to minimize any tackling that I had to do but that didn't make me exempt from having to make plays.  One of these plays, still stands out vividly.  The quarterback dropped back and passed to an open man.  As I moved to make the play, I quickly realized that I was outmatched.  The receiver was "Big Tony," who was not called that ironically.  He barreled toward me.  I quickly went through the options in my head: 1. I could move out of the way. (This option would lead to ridicule from the older kids and give me a weak repuatation.) 2. I could try to push him hard enough to make him fall over. (I was far too small to have that kind of impact.) 3. I could commit to it and probably fail but show that I wasn't just the little guy. (and also probably risk being injured)  I chose the third option.  I ran towards Tony, and jumped towards his legs with all my might.  I flew the air towards him, and BOOM!  I made contact.  I didn't knock him over, but I was able to grab onto his legs and slow him down enough for one of my brothers to come and help me bring him down.  His weight came down right on top of me.  OOF!  The wind flew out of my lungs.  I gasped for air, trying to recover quickly.  The boys gathered around to make sure that I was okay.  In that moment, I was hurting, I could've cried.  Instead, I stood up, caught my breath, and prepared myself for the next play.  I personally felt that I had earned my place in their games after that play.  If I had gone inside crying to Mom and Dad how I got hurt, I can imagine they would have gone outside and ended the game.


3. Don't tell Mom and Dad.
This provides a perfect segue for my next topic.  When we played, there always seemed to be an unwritten rule that if something bad happens (fights, injuries, arguments, etc), don't tell Mom and Dad! (I don't mean that if a creepy person came around we wouldn't go back home).  Either from the older boys' experience or a kid's natural intuition I knew that play was our world, and if we went to Mom and Dad, then it would become their world too.  I can recall countless times with Joe, Josh and Isaiah, when someone would start crying and try to make a fast dash to Mom and Dad to report their complaint, they would be promptly chased down and warned "Don't tell Mom and Dad!"  I am sure that it was more in self-interest and not wanting to get in trouble but I think in doing this, we were able to learn to settle disputes on our own.  If an argument came down to wrestling, we had a clear unwritten rule that there was to be no hits to the face or below the belt.  Other than that was fair game.  Most of the time we could avoid those types of confrontations.  I remember once we were visiting a family friend's house, which had a trampoline.  We didn't have a trampoline, so whenever we got to use one, it was always a treat.  I bounced on it with Joe, Josh, and the kid of parents friends.  We were having a blast doing popcorn and double bouncing each other.  It came my turn to be double bounced.  We jumped up and down, to make sure to get the timing right, counted down 3, 2, 1....  I hit the trampoline at the perfect time.  It was the double bounce to end all double bounces.  I flew into the sky.  I looked down, only to realize that I may or may not land back on the trampoline.  My legs flailed to try to make it back and I landed... THUD!  My back hit directly on the outside metal rim and I tumbled off the trampoline.  I winced in pain and stood up slowly.  My back hurt so badly!  Again, the boys circled around me to ask if I was okay.  I said that I was, but that I wanted a break from jumping.  They understood.  Stoically, I watched as they continued to enjoy themselves.  It was not until Mom and Dad noticed that I had a slight limp that I finally had no choice but to reveal the source of my injury.  It was only affirmation that they made the right decision in not getting us our own trampoline.
Related to this subject and something that was so important to continuity of play, was that we learned how to settle conflicts without the interference of adults.  When I am working, there are so many times where kids come and tattle on a friend for doing something that I really don't have much power in changing, rather than dealing with it themselves.  Maybe I am looking at myself through rose colored glasses, but I can't ever remember a time where I was a "tattle-tale".  By watching my older brothers and their friends come to agreements, I was able to learn to compromise and play fair from an early age, and that was such a benefit.  This ability gave us a sense of independence and allowed us to own our play, a theme that seems to continue to pop up in this blog.


4. Fun can be manufactured.
This is something that takes practice and patience, but it is one of the most important things that kids need to learn how to do.  So many times, I get to the After School program at school and kids look up at me and say "I'm bored..." with the expectation that I wave my magic wand and erase that feeling.  Fortunately, I have a long background of entertaining kids, so most of the time I am able to offer simple alternatives that are fun and usually kill the boredom.  Some of the kids have learned the art of entertaining themselves and it is truly wonderful to watch them pull others into their games.  When I was younger, I know for a fact that I told my parents that "I am bored," and their "you should go outside" response did not instantly make the feeling disappear, but forced me to find ways to entertain myself.  So rather than being bored, Isaiah and I went out into the yard and starting manufacturing fun.  We spent an inordinate amount of time in the small patch of woods next to our house "chopping wood," which involved using a baseball bat or hockey stick to whack the weeds that were growing.  We created an imaginary donut shop out of a massive tree that had to be taken down because lightning had struck it weeks before.  We created Jungan Ball, a game that was awful similar to just shooting a soccer ball around, but with a softer ball.  We entered into Pretendfriendland (aptly named), our tandem world of imaginary friends. 
We did practical real-life exploration too.  When we lived in Mississippi, there was a creek that ran off from a nearby pond that we were able to explore.  The rule there was that we always had to be with someone else if we were going to explore that area.  I usually went with Joe and Josh, because Isaiah was too young at that point.  I can remember wading through the creek, searching for frogs and crayfish.  Sometimes we would get really good sized ones; that was always the most exciting part! (The funny thing is, I think that we usually caught the same ones over and over) The creek also had a natural waterslide that we would play in, especially on hot days.  After a rain, the creek would look more like a river.  On those days, the creek was off limits.  On the banks, down by the drain pipe, there was a massive fire ant bed.  We knew to steer clear of there, but my grandfather had the misfortune to find it the hard way!  Man did those bites hurt!
Once, many years after moving back from Mississippi to Maine, our family visited a small Canadian island off the coast of Maine called Grand Manan.  My parents really wanted to see it, and Josh, Isaiah and I didn't really have a choice but tag along.  If you are ever looking to get away to a quiet, picturesque northeastern coastal venue, Grand Manan is definitely the place for you!  However, if you are a teen or pre-teen who is starved for social interactions with friends and time away from your parents, NOT a great vacation destination.  We arrived after a long drive/ferry ride and had no idea what to do next.  My parents suggested that we all go for a walk, and since there was no other option, we went with them.  As we walked along the ocean (which was SO cold), we began to pick up rocks on the shore line and toss them in.  Pretty soon, us boys were having a full-fledged rock skipping competition.  My parents tricked us into having fun.  For the next few days, we would leave our cottage and go out to the ocean just throw rocks and chat with each other, and slowly but surely, we started coming around to this simple little island.*
I am a firm believer that fun and play can be found in any situation if the attitude is right, it just takes a little practice.
5. Play provides an escape.
When I lived in Mississippi, I was truly exposed to some nasty thunder storms.  They often moved in quickly and were often accompanied by lots of thunder and lightning and threats of tornadoes.  The sirens in the town would blare, warning people to get to a safe place.  Now, even though I am back on the northeast coast reports of stormy weather give me a second of pause.  One day when I was in third grade and Isaiah was in kindergarten, we had a day of particularly bad weather.  As we went through the school day, the weather got progressively worse.  Outside, it was raining sideways, with thunder and lightning striking.  Every time the sirens began, our class had to line up and sit facing the wall in the hallway.  As the school day came to an end, it seemed like there was a window of time where we could get on the bus and head home.  As we were about to board the bus, we heard it again... the siren was going off again.  I was relieved that we were sitting with our bus groups, because that meant that I could be next to Isaiah.  As we sat next to each other, I could hear him sniffling (probably out of frustration for not being able to go home as well as a certain level of fear).  Always the care taker, third grade Noah reached over and patted Isaiah on the back and comforted him as well as any third grader could.  Finally, the sirens stopped, we boarded the bus and went home.  After a stress-filled day, it was a relief to see Mom at home going about her normal business, cooking dinner for the family.  Isaiah was still a little upset and the weather was not much better.  Rather than sit and fret, however, Isaiah and I began pulling pillows from the beds and couches around the house and built a pillow fort next to my parent's bed.  When we were in the pillow fort, we were safe from anything!  Anytime we heard the weather warning tone on NPR, we quickly made a dash for the fort to get away from the storm.  In our imaginary world, we quickly forgot that there were any imminent threats and soon, the storm finally subsided.  In this instance (and during many other storms), play provided a much needed distraction for Isaiah and I.  It gave us a tangible way to make us feel safe and also enjoy ourselves.  It also helped that Mom was calmly going about her usual routine.


I could go on and on about other things that I learned through play, but I have expended enough words today.  I will leave you with one unrelated, but amusing story.


*When we were in Grand Manan, we stayed at a cottage ground, where there were four or five identical cottages line up right next to each other.  One day, when we were out throwing rocks, Isaiah had to use the bathroom.  He walked back to where we were staying and into the bathroom.  As he sat on the toilet, he started to wonder where Mom and Dad were, because it was awful quiet.  He finished his business and walked out of the cottage, turned around, and realized that he was in the wrong one all along!  The people who were staying next door had left for the day and left their place unlocked!  We all got a pretty good laugh out of that one.

It's May: Highlights of Springtimes past

Spring at Milton Academy!

This time of year, it's really hard not to have a positive attitude.  After months of leafless trees, grey skies, and cold air, it is so refreshing to see (and feel) the changes that come with springtime.  The warmth in the air, the sound of the birds, the fresh spring smells (flowers and fresh cut grass), the sun, and the general positivity of people around me highlight my good feelings.  Although summer (being at camp) and early Fall (remind me of soccer seasons of old) are great times, I think that it is really hard to beat May and early June.  I have so many memories stemming from this time period that I might as well share some of them!


Pre-high school:
My memories of spring time before high school involve soccer, friends, and my little brother. 

1. Soccer:  After a winters of playing little to no soccer, it was always a treat when I could finally get back out on the field.  Springtime meant that it was time to prepare for the Coastal Challenge (hosted by Bowdoin College).  I don't remember many of these tournaments not involving at least one game being played in the pouring rain, but I do remember our Maine Novas team having a lot of success playing in this tournament (usually ending up first or second).  For most of my years playing in this tournament, a couple of my aunts and uncles lived nearby, so I can remember going to their house to rest (and usually dry off) before the next game.  Eventually, the weekend also corresponded with the birthday of one of my youngest cousins, so we were conveniently in the area to celebrate! (Nothing like mixing loads of cake and soccer)
2. Friends:  Starting in middle school my parents began allowed me to have more freedom to venture away from the house unsupervised, which meant that my spring afternoons could be filled spending time with friends.  Beginning in seventh grade, I decided to change where I waited for the bus and instead of waiting on First Rangeway, I cut through a couple of lawns and a couple of streets over to wait on Forest Park (a walk that I have made many times since).  I played soccer with a bunch of kids from that street (Shawn, Zack, and John) and my other bus stop was usually just me (so lonely).  Little did I know then, but Forest Park would soon become a second home.  I can remember getting off the bus on nice days and walking over to Zack's house, where we could play pool and Halo: Combat Evolved while we had afternoon snacks.  When I wasn't with my friends on that street or home, chances were pretty good that I was hanging out with Dennis.  Dennis also played soccer with me, and by virtue of carpooling to most games together, we became fast friends.  His Mom's house sat back in the woods at the bottom of a hill, and one day I can clearly recall spending about an hour ghost riding our bikes down the hill into a jump, where they would launch into nearby trees.  (Such a junior high boy thing to do.)
3. Little Brother: Although I did spend a lot of times with my friends, Isaiah still won the award for most time spent hanging out with me.  Middle school springtime was devoted to baseball, wiffleball, backyard soccer, and driveway basketball.  I never really played organized baseball (save one season of coach pitch ball), but Isaiah was in it for a few years.  When he first started, he wasn't very good (I'm sure he will admit this).  However, I started dragging him down the street to do batting practice in the cage, and slowly but surely, he started to find a groove.  By the end of his little league stint, he was actually a pretty passable player.  He was a gracious batter, as my pitches often lacked control and occasionally hit him.  Rather than moving out of the way, he would stick his hand out to stop it.  (Then would whine when it hurt.)  When he refused to be dragged to the baseball field, I would then run down a variety of different options (all of which were some sort of sport).  Some days it was easy and he'd come right out, others he put up a bit of a fight before agreeing to come outside with me.  We played any and every sport we could.  Games would usually end with a faux wrestling match to determine the "real winner" of the game.  During middle school, I often had to go a little easier on Isaiah because I was physically more dominant than he was, but pretty soon he would catch and surpass me in that department!

High School: High school springs had a number of common themes, but also some variations.  I think that breaking it down by grade year is the best strategy here. 

Freshman year.  Spring, freshman year was the only year that I did a spring sport.  I chose Track and Field.  I surely wasn't the fastest runner on the team, but I also wasn't the slowest.  I really enjoyed doing it, and got better as the season progressed.  But there is one memory of that season that stands out for better or for worse.  It was an overcast, dreary day and the team was using a piece of training equipment called an over-speed trainer.  It was essentially a bungee cord with a person running in front and a person trailing them (each runner connected).  It was designed to provide drag for the person in the front, while the person in back was forced to reach speeds that they wouldn't be able to unless otherwise pulled.  Well, I was paired up with Zach, and we strapped in and got ready to run.  He was in front and I was in back.  He started running and I waited for the coach to tell me to go.  She said "go," so I went.  As I ran, I could feel myself moving faster and faster, finally reaching a point where I didn't think my legs could increase their speed any more.  Suddenly, my body lurched forward and I began to fall.  I tumbled forward and hit the ground hard.  Zach continued to run, as he was instructed to run a certain distance.  As he ran, my body skipped along the track for another ten feet or so like a rock skipping across the water.  Finally, he stopped.  The rest of the team looked on in horror, not knowing if I was okay or if they could laugh.  I was so embarrassed.  I could feel scrapes and track burns all over.  I stood up slowly and asked if I could go down to the school to clean myself up a bit.  Fortunately, it was a cool, rainy day, so I was wearing long-sleeves and a hat.  If I hadn't I fear that my outcome would have been much worse!  From that point on, everyone on the team definitely knew who I was... and I didn't use the over-speed trainer again.  In addition to track, I decided that it was time for me to bulk up.  I convinced my parents to let me get a gym membership with my friends and started hitting the gym!  We started going after track practice to get big and strong.  My friends seemed to make bigger gains then I did (I blame it on a head start).  Then, I decided I was going to take it really seriously and began to take Creatine to bulk up.  The creatine called to be consumed a few times a day with copious amounts of water in between.  Before I knew it, I swelled right up (scarily gaining 10 pounds in two weeks).  In this process, I decided it may not have been the safest method to get bigger, and stopped.  I soon shrunk back down...

Sophomore Year. In the Spring of my sophomore year, I started my first official job!  I worked as a Blizzard technician (I just made that up) at Dairy Queen.  At this time, I didn't have my license, so I had to walk to work (luckily, it wasn't too far away).  I can remember the nice spring days walking over to work thinking "mannnn, there are so many things I'd rather be doing right now!"  But when it was all said and done, it was a good starting job.  I ate a ton of free ice cream, they treated me well (I was once employee of the month), and I can still make a soft serve cone beautifully!  When I wasn't making blizzards and twisty cones, I could often be found at the Massey home, playing Halo, Ping-Pong, or man hunt, drinking Arizona Green Teas.  For as many hours as I spent playing Halo, one would have guessed that I would be better at it... I wasn't.  Definitely in the lower tier of my friends.  Since my curfew at home was 10:30, I often spent the night at friends' houses instead, because they all lived close together and thus stayed up later!  Like any sophomore male, we bonded over sports, video games, and girls (most of my friends were more gifted in that last department).  Quick aside: my shy nature often got the best of me when I ran into a girl that I was interested in (I was a great talker on AIM).

Junior Year. By this time, most of my friends (I didn't until senior year :-X) had gotten their driver's licenses, so our things-to-do options opened up significantly.  By this time, most of the guys had girlfriends, so unfortunately, their bro time was now compromised.  Mine was not...  However, when we were hanging out, it was likely that we were hanging out on John's roof, drinking green teas, blasting some Jimmy Buffett.  We were so cool.  Junior year also marked the foundation of "It's May," an all-encompassing excuse to procrastinate work.

A common high school sight.

Senior Year. My spring of senior year was literally life-changing.  I will admit, that I was a bad friend to a lot of my best friends, because I was not around a lot.  I was not around a lot, because for the first time, I was finally hanging out with a girl.  After a winter of swimming with her and being told by her friends that she would never go for a guy like me (I had an unfair rap sheet), I finally convinced Amy to hang out with me.  At first she was hesitant, always bringing her sister and some friends to make sure I didn't try any funny business.  After a while though, I convinced her that I wasn't so bad.  When she finally agreed to hang out with just me, I pulled out my best arsenal of potential moves.  On one of our first dates, we walked the Colby Arboretum (which I should have warned her about, because she wore white sandals...oops), went to Gifford's to Mini Golf (and ice cream which was probably the real deal sealer), and then capped the night off by going to see a movie (on that particular date, I think we saw What Happens in Vegas).  I will admit that I was so nervous that we would run out of things to talk about or I would fumble my opportunity, but everything came so easily and naturally.  Amazingly, eight years later, she still hasn't gotten rid of me!Shortly after that date, I had the privilege of taking her to prom and had a lovely evening.  That spring, I convinced my parents to let me work at Camp Bishopswood for the summer, where I learned that I loved to work with kids and led me to my current profession in schools.  It is funny how the dominos fall sometimes.  Aside from hanging out with Amy and trying to convince her that I was boyfriend material, I smoked my first (and likely last) real cigar.  As John's uncle put it: "you are the only person I've ever met that needed to DD after a cigar."  I definitely smoked it too fast. Life has a funny way of presenting lasting lessons!

What a nice couple.

College: So that gets us through the highlights of high school springs!  Now on to college springs.  I am going to skip the part of spring where I was physically at college, because that was a different beast altogether.  College is so unique in so many ways, and one of those was how early we got out of school.  At St. Joe's we were often packing up and heading home before May 10, which is crazy!  Since my summer camp job didn't start until the middle of June, I always had some well-deserved free time.  I used this month to get caught up on lost time with my friends who were away at different colleges.  Just like old times, Forest Park was the central gathering area, and we would venture out again.  Usually, most of my friends had at least a couple of weeks before their jobs started as well, so we often had fires in the back yard or played Super Smash Bros. on Nintendo 64 (as far as I'm concerned, that and FIFA are the best video games ever).  Unlike Halo, I was actually good at Smash.  When I wasn't hanging out with the boys, there were two common activities that I could be found doing: 1) Hanging out with Isaiah and 2) Hanging out with Amy.  I will start with the second, because I would often get out of school nearly a month before Amy finished.  At Bates, they had to do May term at least three of the four years they were in school, so Amy typically didn't finish up until the end of May.  When I had access to a car, I would often visit her at school on weekends, or drive down and bring her back to Waterville.  When I visited her at Bates, we filled our time going to see movies, going on walks around campus, going out to dinner, and hanging out with her friends.  The great part about Bates on weekends was that there was almost always some sort of school sanctioned event (i.e, dances, concerts, etc...).  Luckily, I got to spend my summers with Amy at camp, so the hanging out with friends balancing act was a little bit easier. 




Isaiah was still in high school, so during the day, I would usually find other things to do to kill time (mow the lawn, shoot hoops, watch tv, etc...).  When he would get home, tired from track practice, I always made sure to drag him outside to play basketball or wiffleball (I know he loved it).   One spring, I substitute taught at my old high school, which was definitely an interesting experience (especially since I was a senior when the current senior class was freshman, many of them were also Isaiah's friends).  Springtime also meant that Isaiah was right in the think of outdoor track season.  I would be remiss to leave this part of my springs out.  Isaiah was really fast and I really loved making the trips to watch him run at states.  The crazy thing about states weekend, is that I reflecting back, I don't remember a single one of those weekends being bad weather.  It was always hot and sunny (I always got sunburned).  There was no doubt that I was his biggest fan.  Prior to race day, Isaiah and I would talk about what the team had to do in order to have a chance, how much time he would have to drop to have a chance to win, and how other team's performances would effect their standings.  During his high school career, his team won two state championships, he was a major contributor in one of them and got some points in the other.  He always came into States ranked below some of the southern Maine runners, but in true Spofford fashion, never failed to rise to the occasion.  It was so fun to watch him blaze across the track!  When the day was done, I would go home sunburned and tired, looking forward to breaking down the events! 

Speedy

Post-College (Washington Academy): This provides a perfect segue to my initial post-college life, because my most vivid recollections of springs at W.A. involved coaching track and playing tennis. I didn't have much success, but being around Isaiah and track for so long helped me learn the mechanics and intricacies of running.  This served me very well as I was able to land a position as a volunteer (and eventually assistant coach) with the outdoor track team at WA.  Unlike Waterville, this was a relatively new team with a relaxed atmosphere.  It was perfect for a new coach.  I worked mostly with the hurdlers and jumpers and it was such a rewarding experience.  During the course of the seasons it was always amazing to watch the athletes grow and reach personal bests that they didn't realize they were capable of achieving.  My first year, we only had a few state qualifiers, but as the program grew, so did the number of athletes at states!  Coaching track is definitely in the top 3 list of things that I miss most about WA.  I still make sure to check the results after their meets to make sure that they are continuing to have success (of course, they are!).

WA Track team at States!

  When I wasn't coaching, I loved playing tennis at the new courts with the dorm students.  I worked with students who spoke all different languages, and as their dorm parent, I quickly learned that sports is a universal language.  They were often better than me at tennis, but I loved the competition and being able to improve over the course of the spring.  I would often go out after dinner, intending to only play for an hour or so, and find myself out there until it was finally too dark to play anymore.
Then of course, there was graduation season, where I got to swell with pride as my dorm kids and day students went to prom and then reaped the rewards of four years of hard work as they walked across the stage to accept their diplomas.  There is just a certain feeling during that time (maybe it's knowing that there is a summer of rest fast-approaching), that is always refreshing.



Post-College (Boston/Waterville):


He did it! (Last year)



Speaking of graduations, another Isaiah highlight happened last Spring, as we made the trip up to Farmington to watch him march!  Last year, I had the privilege of making several trips up to Farmington to visit Isaiah and his roommates, who are amazing people by the way.  This made watching the graduation that much sweeter, because rather than just being proud of Isaiah, there was also my cousin Sebastien, his girlfriend Kelsey, and their other roommate Ken (the last true residents of the famed "Ski House"). 

Living in Boston, I have had several highlights too.  One of which is a spring time that is just a little bit longer than that of Maine's spring.  A few weeks ago, I had an awesome day with Amy, where we went hiking around a pond, then went into the city (which is at beauty prime-time in the spring) and walked around Newbury Street and had a nice dinner date.  It's so nice living in a place where I can do such diverse things in the same day! 

I also recently made my annual spring trip up to Maine, and it was filled with Forest Park, old friends and golf.  The weather was about as good as Maine could have offered in mid-May.  There is just something about being around Maine in May that makes me really happy (especially when the weather was as good as it was).  I got to sit by the fire, with friends, playing guitar.  That's a pretty prime scenario for great memory making if you ask me!  It was also likely the last time that I will have gone to the Mathews Ave house as well, which was really bittersweet!  Mom and Dad made sure to make it a delightful last dinner, as I came home to a crabmeat and clam supper (SO GOOD!).  As I prepared to head back to Boston, they made sure to load the car up with anything that they could possibly unload on me (food, soda, clothes, fancy hats).  To top off the weekend, we booked three consecutive tee times, and played golf on a virtually empty Waterville Country Club course.  Now that the weather has improved and I have my own clubs, I have had a serious itch to play golf whenever I can!  It is a great sport, but can be very frustrating!

At the Range

There you have it, my chronicle of springs past!  Until next time :-)!!


              

Home

In August of 1999, my family packed up our house in Mississippi and moved north, back to Maine.  At the time, there were several reasons for us to make the move.  Primarily, my mom really missed living close to her family and my Dad was re-re-relocating with a new, old job (the funny thing about my Dad’s employment history is that for a time, he bounced back and forth with the same employers in Mississippi [Baptist hospital] and Maine [Waterville Osteopathic/Inland]).  Fortunately, he had a profession that travelled well (dietitian).  So we said goodbye to our friends down there, loaded up the moving truck, piled into our maroon van (see road trip blog) and silver Ford Escort and headed north!  A couple of days and many states later, we were back in Maine on a permanent basis for the first time since I was 3.  When we moved up, my parents, not being able to look at houses properly, decided that they wanted to rent for at least the first year, while we got a feel for the area and schools.  So for our first year in Maine, we lived in the recognizable “House with the yellow door.”  It was a convenient location, but in the end, it was most practical to buy.  It took my parents a little over a year to find a house that was: 1. In their price range, 2. In a good area, 3. Met their high expectations for a home that would suit a family of four boys.  Finally in October of 2000 (just before my birthday), they settled on a house, and that is the subject of this blog post.

When we first moved into the house on Mathews Ave, my parents made the decision knowing that it was a bit of a fixer upper (pardon the Frozen reference).  The basement was unfinished, it needed a top to bottom paint job, the yard was a mess, the kitchen needed a new floor, it needed a new roof, etc…  Luckily for them, they had four boys who they could put to work, to help them make this stone a diamond.  After a considerable amount of work, my parents deemed it ready for the Spofford family, and so I got a new birthday present of a new home.  This place was so cool!!  It had a big yard that we could play soccer in, woods behind the house that we could explore, a baseball field day the street, our basketball hoop in the driveway, and garage doors that could double as a soccer goal (much to my parents’ chagrin).  It was really well equipped for a family of four boys.  The only thing that it seemed to be missing was a proximity to my friends (I soon learned that this was untrue).  Now, sixteen years later, my parents made the decision to sell the house to move (for all the right reasons) into my grandparents’ house (which was built by my Mimi and Papa), and I find myself reminiscing about all of my great memories from Mathews Ave.

Yesterday, I searched “Waterville Maine real estate,” on Google, clicked on Zillow, and much to my surprise, the very first thing I saw was the street view of my house.  When I saw it, I was surprised by the immediate memories that flooded in.  Rather than visions of Isaiah and I playing football in the front yard or basketball in the driveway, I had a vivid memory of us sitting on the sidewalk in front of the house eating popsicles (probably root beer flavored).  Then the memories really started to flood in: the time I sat on the front porch steps before my u-12 state championships feeling exhausted, trying to find more energy (I wound up scoring the winning goal!) and casually shooting hoops with Isaiah talking about life’s intricacies (especially during his track seasons).  I recalled the feeling that I get every time I return home from college, East Machias, or Boston and the feeling of comfort and relief that I get as I pull into the driveway.  The smell of lilacs from the bushes that line the driveway in the spring time.  The joy that I had after kissing Amy for the first time (yeah, a goodnight kiss).  The feeling of the wet grass on my bare feet on those summer mornings when I would drag my brothers out to play sports with me.  The clarity of mind that I felt when I stepped out of the garage to shoot the basketball, juggle the soccer ball, or play tennis against the kitchen wall (again, much to my parents’ chagrin).  The summer day just beginning to heat up as I started the lawn mower to get my daily chores out of the way.  The list could go on and on and these are memories that were made outside of the house.  It is amazing the memories that are made in a place during the formative years.

This is such a cliché statement, but if the walls of the Mathews Ave house could talk, they sure would have some stories to tell.  They would tell of the way Dad would rearrange the furniture every few months because he never felt fully satisfied with the aesthetic, they would revel in the constantly sweet smell of Mom baking in the kitchen, they would speak of the boys’ growth through their successes and mistakes. 

Helping Mom in the kitchen!

As I flipped through the pictures of the different rooms, I imagined them on other occasions filled with different friends and family, celebrating events or just hanging out.  The photos of the kitchen evoked the strongest memories.  As the first place to walk into, the kitchen was always welcoming, usually smelled amazing, and constantly had too many people (and dogs) cluttered in the space.  It was there that we would share celebrations through the years with Mimi and Papa, who were always there to enjoy the delicious meals and eat “just a sliver” of all of the desserts.  Many evenings I was asked if I needed “a written invitation” to get to the kitchen, as I dragged my feet to get to dinner.  The kitchen was the site of our family game time, where our true competitiveness showed its teeth; some of us stopping at nothing (even fighting on rare occasions) to get the badly desired victory.  Many of games of Scrabble were played in that kitchen and slowly but surely, we finally began dethroning Dad as the champion of triple word scores.

Christmas Eve Feast!!

I could really go through every room and write a book with memories from my sixteen years of Mathews Ave, but in the interest of not boring readers, I will leave this blog with a list of memories that I hold fondly:

• Sophomore year of high school when I fell asleep on the couch in the basement watching college basketball every night
• Summers when Josh, Isaiah, and I lounged around the house watching Dawson’s Creek, Family Guy, and American Dad
• Making up games to play with Isaiah in the back yard
• Playing video games (especially FIFA, Tony Hawk, Halo, ESPN College Hoops 2k5, and Twisted Metal) with the boys and friends
• Wiffle Ball in the back yard
• Lobster bakes on the back porch

Steamers and Bruschetta on the Back Deck

• Uphill world cup with Joe and Josh
• Jeopardy in the office with the family
• Late nights in the office talking on AIM and listening to music (i.e. the Fray) (Ohhh high school Noah…)
• Mom reading to us in our room as we went to sleep
• Our living room being watched over by statue Mary and Jesus

• Playing ping pong in the back of the basement
• Sitting in the living room with friends and family catching up on lost time
• When Isaiah ran down stairs and slipped on the freshly waxed wood floor
• Plotting with the cousins how we could ensure a sleep over at family events
• The raspberries!
• Many, many more things…

I am really happy that my parents are taking the opportunity to make sure that the Homestead that my grandparents built themselves stays in the family.  I know that in the long run, home is where the people that you love are, and I also love the Homestead.  I just thought that the Mathews Ave house deserved a few words of recognition for serving as an excellent place of residence for the last 16 years!  If anyone is in the market for homes, you should check it out, it’s truly a fantastic place to live! (Shameless plug)

Until next time!!