Entry #62

Entry #62

Monday, April 30

6:00 p.m. After school today, I asked Aidan’s teacher, whose son plays both football and lacrosse, about joining a lacrosse team (or simply getting lessons). “Lacrosse is very competitive around here,” she said. “You’re not going to find much of anything if your child is already entering seventh grade...Our team hasn’t lost a game in eight years.” Seventh grade? Sounds like Aidan's already over the hill at the ripe old age of eleven.

I am well aware of Texans' unwavering devotion to football, but lacrosse? I thought it was more of an esoteric sport, or at least one that is mostly played by preppy high school kids back East. Seems there's no such thing as a casual sport around here—even Noah's bowling league was intensely competitive. "It made it kind of weird how serious they all were about it," said Noah. 

I ran into a neighbor this morning who moved back here after being away in France for a few years. Her son, whose the same age as Aidan, started playing tackle football for the first time. Next year he’ll need to be at school at 6:45 a.m. and practice for four hours every day, two hours before and after school. Parents were required to buy helmets at $100 each, only to have the innards ripped out, the outside taken to a body shop and painted with the team logo for an additional fee. “They look like professionals out there,” said the mom. “A lot of the kids were throwing up from the heat, but they had to keep playing. It’s really intense.” No kidding. Putt-putt anyone?

A friend of Noah’s said he’ll be participating in “canoe water polo” next year in Berkeley. Now there’s something I bet people haven’t done since they were two. “That sounds really fun,” said Noah. David's sport of choice at college was Ultimate (Frisbee). We're clearly not your typical team sports family...

May 1, 2012

1:00 p.m. I heard Izzie barking and looked out back, only to find a balding older man with a ponytail and beer belly wandering around our back yard. I opened the door and asked him who he was. He answered matter-of-factly that he was there to fix the pool pump, and continued making himself at home. Never knocked on the front door, rang the bell, or announced himself in any way. He just walked in through the side fence and began doing his thing.

This man’s not the first. We have strangers breezing through the backyard all the time—to check the meters, take care of the yard, check the pool. No one bothers to let us know they’re there. This is something I still haven’t gotten used to. I keep thinking about the fact that the back wall is mostly windows. What if I were naked? Okay, I don’t tend to walk around naked, but what if? It would be nice to know I had the option.

When I went to pick up Noah's art portfolio at the ninth grade campus this morning, I thought I could simply walk directly to the class. “This is a closed campus, ma’am,” said the woman at the front desk. I could walk no further than the entrance lobby. The glass doors beyond this area are locked and open via a special buzzer. Surveillance equipment is placed all around for added measure.

Despite the fact that the front desk person had a tan from a recent trip to Belize, bright coral nails and well-coiffed blond hair, I still felt like I was interacting with a jail warden. No persons beyond this point. No wayward moms allowed. And Positively No Pets! Izzie would’ve enjoyed the air conditioning.

8:00 p.m. Aidan’s 7x7 (tag football) coach, Taylor, is a 6’5” high school senior who kindly agreed to work with Aidan on learning football plays. I hung out while they were practicing, and watched as Taylor ran Aidan up and down the enormous field. Aidan was dripping with sweat after ten minutes. Wearing full tackle gear must be brutal in the Texas heat.

I overheard Taylor tell Aidan that there are 5000 kids at the Woodlands High School. “How do you like it?” I asked. “Oh, I love it,” he said. “I’ve been here since kindergarten, and even though there are more than 1000 kids in my grade, I probably could tell you all their names.” “You could go into politics with that talent,” I said. “No, ma’am,” he said, “I don’t like arguing. I’m gonna go into engineering. Petroleum.”

According to Noah, all the boys he knows want to go into engineering for oil companies. Seems that’s what their daddies do, so that’s what they wanna do. Plus, this line of work is quite lucrative. “I don’t understand why anyone would want to do that. It’s so bad for the environment,” said Noah. Natural resources, i.e., "Oil that is, black gold, Texas tea" (to quote the Beverly Hillbillies) are perceived very differently here, since it's the main source of industry. 

At dinner, we were talking about seeing the forthcoming Avengers movie. Because there’s not a whole lot to do around here, movies have become a primary source of entertainment. “I don’t know why you think there’s not much to do around here,” said Aidan. “I can list at least ten things.” Aidan started by saying, “You can walk, you can go for a walk,” which cracked us up. “You can also leap, you can skip, you can run, you can mosey, you can meander...” I added. “You can go to the movies,” Aidan continued, “You can swim, you can see Justin across the street, you can go ice skating downtown [though that’s only open around Christmas], bike, do archery, draw, read...” 


“You can do those things anywhere, except maybe visit Justin across the street," said Noah. "What can you do in The Woodlands that you can’t do anywhere else?” While Aidan was mulling this over, I interjected, “You can go kayaking in a man-made lake with Great Blue Herons and deadly water moccasins and a giant fountain!” “True, you can do that,” said Noah. 


There's even a dragon in the lake to keep you company. How many places offer that (besides the alleged one living in Loch Ness)? We've learned to appreciate the little things...