Graduation 2014

Saturday, after what seemed like only a year from first dropping him off at preschool, my son Sam graduated from Mathews High School.

When the first of only two grandchildren in the Vogel family graduates, we make sure to celebrate appropriately.  Middle Sis flew in from Georgia, and Baby Sis came from Richmond.

Middle Sis

My mother is the only one of our immediate family who did not graduate from
Mathews High School; she went to Gloucester High.
 Mathews was originally part of Gloucester.
  So that's close enough.

My mother was there in the hospital room when Sam was born.  As a toddler, he'd happily go from our Northern Virginia house to Mathews with her when she'd come to pick him up for a weekend.
There was no such thing as separation anxiety for him, particularly where Nanny was concerned. 

There might be one person in this bunch who is starting to feel some separation anxiety.
But she's also very happy.

L to R, representing MHS classes of 1984, 2014, 1982 and 1988.

Emily Brown, who I want to adopt as my own, was co-valedictorian.
Her father informed me they weren't ready to give her up for adoption just yet.
But I still keep asking.  

When Sam was born, there were complications involving oxygen deprivation that caused the nurses to whisk him away immediately.  When the pediatrician finally stopped by to give me an update, which didn't sound particularly great, I asked, "Will there be any long-term effects?"
"We can't know for sure," was her very somber response.
This is Reason 4,562 that I am grateful he successfully made it to this day.

Two Mr. Sandersons:  The one on the left coached my mother and me when we played on the Cobbs Creek softball team in the summer league back in the 1980s.  The Mr. Sanderson on the right, his son, was one of Sam's Governor's School teachers.  They are both great men.

The Mathews High School Class of 1982 was well represented.  Here are my classmates Catherine Miller Owens, whose niece Amanda Miller graduated, and Lucy Ellen Smith, who was there to support a graduate whose parents couldn't be there.  I love these girls.
(Middle and Baby Sis hover in the background, pondering the meaning of life.)

My Two Sams
Sam Vogel graduated from Mathews High in 1958.

If only her parents would let me adopt her, I could call this a family photo.
Emily has a very bright future ahead and will attend University of California, Berkeley.

After graduation came the celebratory dinner that included grilled tuna, marinated flank steak,
 a CB Mother-made salad, kale, baked potatoes and, of course, champagne.
Middle Sis also made her world-famous macaroni and cheese.
(If the American Legion Hall can claim to have world-famous breakfasts, I'm sure I can use that descriptor for her macaroni and cheese. Regardless, if it isn't world-famous yet, it should be.)

The ingredients list for the recipe of my emotions, now that graduation is over, is complex.

I am grateful, honored, proud, relieved, humbled, privileged, happy, sad, scared, exhausted--lots of things.

  

Most of all, I am grateful.

I don't take anything for granted and am extremely grateful we all made it to this point.

Next stop, college.

Sunrise at Aarons Beach

These were taken at sunrise from Aarons Beach last week after I dropped off Daughter at cross country practice, which started at six thirty.

Six thirty, and sunrise, were only three hours later than when I went to sleep Sunday morning after my mini class reunion aboard the Spirit of Norfolk Saturday night.  Although we all were nervous about the late (to us anyway) start time of Midnight Thirty, we used toothpicks to prop our eyelids open used the aerobic activity known as dancing to help keep the blood flowing to ensure nobody nodded off.

Our friend Lucy (click here for a post with our picture) did an excellent job organizing the event, which wasn't without its obstacles, and we've vowed to plan regular activities to force us out of our stale normal routines which almost never include dancing on a boat in downtown Norfolk from 12:00 - 2:30 a.m.

How was your weekend?

Orange and Blue

Most of Saturday was spent a quarter-mile from my house at the Piankatank Ruritan Club helping my friend Lucy with her daughter's wedding reception. The Ruritan Club holds many memories that date  back to 1980s dances featuring the Beast from the East as DJ back to high school.


The wedding colors were orange and blue.

The bride and groom

Lucy

Orange and blue happen to be the colors of my alma mater, which Son, Daughter and I visited Sunday and Monday.

I told them the story of my very first night on grounds,
which was in 1492 1982.
(A fraternity party was involved.)

Son and Daughter in front of the Rotunda, which is currently under renovation.

I love Thomas Jefferson.

The Lawn
My friend Iris lived on the Lawn. So did Ricky Stokes.
And Edgar Allen Poe, however briefly.

From Sunday morning to Monday night, the Chesapeake Bay Family traveled over 360 miles. When you factor in my normal commute and an out-of-town trip for work, by the time Friday evening arrives this week, I will have driven an additional 500 miles.

860 miles in six days.

Although these past several days have been fun filled and action packed, I must reiterate for the record that I am living for my week of vacation in July.

These past few days have been enjoyable, in spite of all my complaining everything.

More from Horn Harbor

These are just a few lingering shots from last Sunday's trip to the beach at Horn Harbor.

This weekend promises to be a hectic one . Today's forecast includes heavy rain and winds thanks to a tropical storm, which will make my 100-mile commute to and from work even more delightful.  Saturday my friend Lucy's* daughter is getting married, and I'll be taking pictures and serving food at the reception.  Sunday I drive Son to Newport News for Boys State orientation, then we're off to Charlottesville to meet with UVA admissions people Monday morning.

The words do not exist to express how much I am so looking forward to my vacation in July.

I hope your weekend is relaxing, free of stress and obligations.


*Click here for a 2010 blog post which includes a picture of me and Lucy at the Christmas parade.  Be sure to read my mother's comment about a remark Lucy once made in during one of our high school basketball games.  She'd have no qualms making the same remark today. She tells it like it is.

Wayland

The other day I mentioned Wayland Baptist Church, which is where I sometimes park my car to go jogging.

Recently I learned that my high school friend Lucy Smith was a member of this church.

(Click here for a picture of me and Lucy at the Mathews Christmas parade last year.)

One day I hope to see the inside of this quaint church. For now, though, I'm thoroughly content to wander around the outside.

Of particular interest to me is what lies out back.  Completely surrounded by woods and hidden from passersby on Ridgefield Road, the graveyard is tucked neatly behind the church.

Most of the graves are quite old.

Some, but only a few, are more recent.

Getting back to Lucy, she's the sort of friend who calls me on every holiday. Valentine's Day? I get a call from Lucy just to say hey. Mother's Day? "Happy Mothers, Day, CBW, it's Lucy just calling to wish you a happy day." She also called the night of  the recent tornado just to make sure I was OK.

Whenever I see her we both bust out laughing. And I'm not quite sure why.

I am quite sure it doesn't matter why.

One of these days I'm going to get her on video so you all can see what I mean. Lucy is a character, a born entertainer.  She exudes happiness, joy, and, most of all, a sense of humor about life. She would definitely be on this TV show I hope to create one day, which would feature the local characters that Mathews has created. I could interview a different person every day for a year and not run out of topics and people. So many ideas, so little money time.

This week is The Week when my project is due, and I'm still working on a loaned laptop that is threatening to put me in the Wayland graveyard to die on me, so postings will continue to be sporadic and stress levels will continue to run high.

Thanks for reading and have a great week.


p.s. If you're interested here is another post about Wayland Baptist Church click here.

Mathews Christmas Parade, Part Two

Here are a few more shots from Saturday's Christmas parade.

Since it was drizzling, I opened the back hatch of my car and stood underneath, which didn't necessarily make for great photos, so my apologies in advance.

With me were Chesapeake Bay Son, Daughter, two of their friends and several of my friends, one of whom was Lucy.  Lucy and I played basketball, ran track, and laughed together in high school.

We are were both very silly. To this day, the first thing we do when we see each other is bust out laughing.

Over nothing in particular.  Just the sight of each other is enough to ignite a session of incessant cackling.

My high school English teacher might bust out crying over the use of bust out instead of burst out, but my English teacher needs to understand that there's a difference between formal writing and my writing conversational writing. Also, I think I just made up the term conversational writing, which may well be an oxymoron, so let's stop this side note and my parenthetical additions before they take over the blog post.

Watching the parade with Lucy was something else, let me tell you.

Below is another friend from our class, Glenda.  She's always smiling, even while marching for miles in the cold rain. She also makes a mean deviled egg, fyi.  But that has nothing to do with Christmas or the parade.  Just a bit of trivia. Hi, Glenda!

The car below was festive and cheerful.  A happy entry.

The clown below was slightly less than cheerful at having to walk through the rain.  She pretty much said so when she marched by, bless her heart.  Right around this point, Chesapeake Bay Daughter's friend declared her fear of clowns.

Mrs. Clown didn't hear her though.

I love clowns.  Remember Bozo the Clown?    Anyone?

Speaking of enthusiasm or lack thereof, the Chesapeake Bay Children (in their Santa hats) and  one of their friends (wrapped up like an Eskimo), pretended not to know me and Lucy, who were squealing with delight, laughing, hootin' and hollerin' at the passersby.

Honestly, it was difficult to discern which spectators were children and which were supposed to be the adults.

Just look at the enthusiasm, joy and embarassment festivity on their faces.

Lastly, speaking of adults acting like children friends, here's a picture of me and Lucy trying to act like we have some sense to stay dry.  

Although I missed the usual Mathews-themed entries, such as boats and farm equipment,  I thoroughly enjoyed the parade, even if the rain did cut the festivities short.

Any time spent laughing with friends, though, is time well spent.