Alison Hodgson

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Lifelong Learning Series – Part One

June 13, 2008 by Alison Hodgson 5 Comments

How do you turn a one hour flight into a nine hour odyssey?



Well, my friends a terrible storm is the place to start and that’s exactly what we got Saturday night.  We hadn’t heard anything about it up until we were buckling up for our second flight, the shorter, the we’ll be home in an hour, I wonder if they’re even going to bother with a beverage service one.  The flight attendant announced that we were going to be flying through a storm, then assured us that our flight crew was excellent and that we were in good hands.  Paul and I have both flown a lot, so neither of us thought much of it, other than to note we probably wouldn’t be unbuckling.  It was a short flight and we would be home soon.  It was then 8 p.m. EDT.
All of us were tired.  Repeated late nights were taking their toll and we were all longing for home.  Our family comprised an entire row, both sides of the aisle, with one seat vacant.  I started on one side with Lydia, but then Eden wanted to join us.  Later she was bugging Lydia, so I sent her back to Paul and Christopher.  I was reading a book about about art history, which I found engrossing, so other than looking up to ask for a water, assist Eden with her beverage, chat with Lydia, bust up some entanglements and navigate an emotional and mental breakdown with the person having it, I pretty much had my head in my book.
I hadn’t really noticed that the flight was exceptionally long, until the captain announced that the weather was preventing us from landing and that we would be holding for another twenty minutes trying to ride it out.    If the storm didn’t pass, we would be diverted to Detroit.  Paul and I exchanged a glance filled with resignation across the aisle and then I returned to my reading.    
“I have to go to the bathroom.”  Eden whined.
My heart sank.  Who knew how long we would have before we would be at the gate.  The seat belt signs were on and the crew had been commanded to take their seats as well.  I told Eden she had to wait a little and then prayed.  She went back to coloring.  I returned to my book and  began to bite my fingernail manically.  
The twenty minutes or more passed and the captain announced that we were flying to Detroit to refuel, hopefully allowing a break in the storm.  As we began to descend, Eden noted the clouds and begged for the camera.  She took about thirty pictures before Paul motioned for me to cut her off as the flash was a distraction in the darkening cabin.  I thought a urine soaked five year old would be a bigger disturbance, but understood his concern and put the camera away.
At this point Paul’s mom was praying for our safety.  Since the pilot was taking every precaution to that end, who knows if her prayers were diverted to Eden’s bladder.   By whatever miracle, the girl made it.   As soon as we could, I hustled her down the aisle to get in the long line to the lavs.  
Let me just say that assisting a child in an airplane lav, as well as completing my own business there, is one of my least favorite activities.  But I was mindful enough to be grateful that Eden was not a baby with a diaper needing a change, which would have been much worse. 
We returned to our seats, Eden with the gents and I with Lydia.  The carnival of talking to children, meeting needs, reading and destroying my cuticles continued.  After a while, the lead flight attendant announced that those remaining in lines for the lavs needed to hustle it, as the plane was refueled, the papers were all signed, the gate agent had closed the door and we were cleared to push back. 
I don’t know how long it was before she got back on and asked if there was, “A nurse, an EMT or a physician on the plane.”  Her voice, normally cheerful and upbeat, was low and there was a touch of despair as she asked any one who might be able to help to go to the back of the aircraft.
Paul and I exchanged another, longer glance.  
There was a doctor.  After some time, he and the patient (on oxygen), the patient’s wife and all the flight attendants paraded up the aisle to first class where passengers had been reseated to make room in the first row for the first three and, eventually, the doctor’s wife.
Paul leaned over and whispered, “That’s one way to fly first class.”  I just looked at him for a moment.  This is a man whose company springs for business class for international travel, which is almost all he does.  He only flies coach when he flies with his family.
“You’re spoiled.”  I said.
“You’re right.”  He said.  
I returned to my book and my nails.
The plane was surprisingly quiet for a while and then a youngish man with pants hanging down to his knees slouched down the aisle.  He stopped just in front of our row where he yelled at a flight attendant for not letting us know what was going on.  “We’ve been sitting here an hour!”  He flung his hands in the air.  The attendant said something placating and promised to check our status.   
I raised an eyebrow at Paul.  What part of grounded for a refuel and now a medical emergency didn’t this guy understand?  Paul shrugged.  The man stomped back to his seat.  
Soon after that the Lead made an announcement apologizing for the lack of communication and explained that the airport EMTs had been called and though they had OK’d the patient to fly, were finishing up the paperwork, that we still were good to return to Grand Rapids and would be taking off as soon as possible.  
I can’t tell you how long it was after that the captain announced that the storm had intensified and we no longer had flight clearance.  The plan was for us to wait it out on the ground.  This was met by a general groan.  By now, it was after eleven, approaching midnight.  We had been on the plane over three hours.  Eden’s eyes were rolling back into her head.  I patted my lap and she tried to sleep.  I stroked her hair and face between tosses and turns, reading and obliterating my nails all the while.
The flight attendants pulled out the carts and did another beverage service.  The Lead up in First had recovered  and was cheerfully serving her passengers.  Those in Coach were obviously weary and broken in spirit.  They hunched over their carts, cheerlessly serving drinks and handing out any of the remaining snacks.  Paul requested one and reached for his wallet.  The flight attendant shoved the box at him and moaned, “We’re giving them away.”  Then he listlessly pushed his cart down the aisle.
The angry youngish man walked past us, with his backpack and demanded to be let off the plane.  I began to wonder how long the crew had been flying.  There are very specific and detailed rules governing how long crews can fly, but the accounting is confusing.  When too much time is elapsed the crew can waive their rights and stay with a flight, but this is strenuously discouraged by labor unions.  And we were looking at two different unions with five individuals.  All five would need to waive, if it came to that.
Eden had finally fallen asleep and the big kids were reading quietly.   It was then that the captain announced, “We’ve been cancelled.”  And hung up the mike.
I shut my book and looked at Paul.  We both knew that this cancellation was weather and that the airline wasn’t obligated to do anything for us.  We could get a hotel and try to fly out in the morning or rent a car and drive through the night.  The thought of a hotel with all three kids and no luggage brought on a shudder.
“Do you want to drive?”  I asked.
“Yeah, I do.”
“You go ahead, get a car and I’ll bring the kids after.”
He grabbed his bag and took off as soon as they opened the door and the line moved. 
I stayed put.  Eden had been sleeping less than ten minutes and trying to move her and my bag was too much at present.  I told the big kids to pack up, grabbed all of Eden’s belongings, checked for my own and then settled back in to watch the long parade of exhausted and disheartened passengers.  When two thirds of the plane had emptied there was a gap as a lady wrestled her bags out of the overheads.  I picked up Eden, tapped Christopher and Lydia and jumped into the aisle.  Lydia took Eden’s bag and her own while Christopher tackled his and mine.  
Some have said that readers are leaders but that doesn’t mean you want to carry their bags.   It was with some concern that I watched my skinny lad shoulder both our packs of books, but he did it without complaint and my worries soon shifted to my own burden of a comatose Bean and the aching stubs that, several hours ago had been my fingers. 
It was one a.m.  We stopped for the big kids to use the restroom and I rested.  Most of the remaining passengers trudged past us.  Lydia offered to give Eden a piggy back ride, who was awake just enough to hold on.   I took Lydia’s bag and my own and Christopher took Eden’s.  We walked for quite a distance and then I suggested we give Lydia a break.  Christopher wanted to give Eden a ride and traded with Lydia.  He marched down the dark and quiet halls cheerfully with his own peculiar jauntiness.  Lydia and I followed more sedately.
When we made it to luggage claim where we planned to meet Paul, I verified that our bags would be flown home the next day.  Soon after Paul called from the curb.   We loaded everyone in and drove away.  I had just exhaled, when his head snapped around and he asked, “Did you get my jacket!”
Now, the proper response to a question like that would have been a languid, “No, I remembered your three children and all their, as well as my own, belongings,” but I have A.D.D. and am almost always forgetting things, so instead I shrieked, “YOUR JACKET?  NO!  I FORGOT!”  I wised up quickly though, “Why didn’t you get it?”  I asked.
“YOU TOLD ME TO GO GET THE CAR, SO I JUST RAN-“
I felt a flash of horror, “Did you get your briefcase?”
“Yeah, I got that.” I breathed hard and then quickly weighed the value of his, admittedly nice jacket against going back into that airport.  We could buy another coat, I decided, but he continued, “Our passports were in my pocket.” 
All three kids began to cry.  We just got our passports a few weeks ago and they are inordinately pleased with them.  I could have wept too for different reasons.  I knew that, in all fairness, Paul should be the one to go back into the bowels of Metro to wait in line and wrangle with airline employees, but I was the one who knew exactly where to go and he was already driving.  Running a family on fairness rarely works.  Prudence and grace are better guides.  And frankly, if we ran on fairness, I would often be the one coming up short.  Besides, remaining in the car with the three kids didn’t look like a bowl of cherries either.
I hustled back to the emptying luggage claim.  An agent helped me right away.  Another agent was already preparing to go back to the plane on a similar errand.  The other agent told him to do a quick sweep of the whole aircraft.
I chitchatted with the agents about travel, kids, crazy people, unaccompanied minors and the terrible storm that our family was going to be driving into.  One agent invited me to take a peek at his monitor.  The storm was huge and full of colors.  I began to doubt the wisdom of making the drive as the lateness of the hour fell heavily on me.  
A little over thirty minutes later, we left the airport again and stopped for french fries and water.  Although she said she was hungry, Eden didn’t want anything because she was too tired to eat.  Her voice was wavery and pathetic.  Her face was swollen and her eyes were two little slits.  She looked miserable.  I too declined ordering, but when the fresh and hot fries arrived Eden and I both dug in.  What can we say?  So what if it was 2:30 a.m..  How often do you get good fries?  Fortunately, Paul ordered more than enough.
The kids, once fed, began to pass out.  Paul and I talked until we hit the storm.  I was in the middle of a story when I felt Paul quiet and focus. “Do you need me to stop talking?”  
“Yeah, it’s all I can do to focus on the white lines.”
I settled back in my seat and put my feet up.  We had begun our journey, the day before at 2 p.m. Mountain Time.  Nearly eleven hours later it was approaching 3 a.m. Eastern.  We had miles to go, but I was done.  Up until that moment I had some sort of lightness of being.  I had coped hour after hour by reading and chewing my nails, when push came to shove I had cowgirled up several times, but cramped in that front seat with nothing to read and no one to talk to, I came to the end of my resources.  So I prayed and fidgeted and shifted and fantasized about passing out in the trunk.
Halfway home, the girls came to.  Lydia was crazed and grumpy.  Eden just wept.  I spoke gently and prayed them back to sleep.  
Finally, finally we reached our exit and then our road.  I thought about the trees near my childhood home and how I always saw them at night upside down.  These trees, sheltering this house I always see the right side up, because I am the mother, sitting in the front, preparing to carry children into the house.  I am no longer the child sleeping or feigning it in the back.
And then we were in the drive.  Lydia had awakened and went to knock for Grandma while I gathered Eden and Paul followed with Christopher.  
The house was immaculate.  I carried Eden straight to bed, tore off her clothes and tucked her in.  Paul did the same with Christopher.  Paul’s mom had awakened with a second wind and eagerly showed me all the things she had been doing while we were gone.  Lydia followed like a little zombie until I shooed her to her room.  When Paul came in I slipped away.  I pulled on my nightgown  and as I slid between the lovely sheets I heard his mom saying, “Well you have milk and cereal.  You already had eggs.  Alison could make french toast…”  then I heard Paul’s voice muffled.  The door opened, he threw off his clothes, fell into bed and we slept. 
Hours later, but too soon, Eden climbed in with us.  I felt like a truck had driven over my head, but we were home.
Sweet Home.

Filed Under: family, Lifelong Learning, Montana

May 8, 2008 by Alison Hodgson 1 Comment

Last night I came home from an errand to find everyone in the living room watching a movie. Christopher was on the couch snuggled under several quilts holding a giant bowl of popcorn while Paul and the girls were in chairs around with more modest bowls.  They were all quietly watching “All Creatures Great and Small” from the BBC based on the James Herriot books.  I pushed my way under the covers at the opposite end of the couch and helped myself to some popcorn.  Eden ran and got me a bowl and then cuddled in beside me.  Being there I thought of “Little House in the Big Woods.”

Eden and I recently finished it and I had forgotten how it ended.  Not surprisingly, to readers of the series, it ends with Laura and Mary in bed listening to Pa play his fiddle and sing “Auld Lang Syne.”

When the fiddle had stopped singing Laura called out softly, “What are the days of auld lang syne, Pa?”

“They are the days of a long time ago, Laura,” Pa said.  “Go to sleep now.”

But Laura lay awake a little while, listening to Pa’s fiddle softly playing and to the lonely sound of the wind in the Big Woods.   She looked at Pa sitting on the bench by the hearth, the fire-light gleaming on his brown hair and beard and glistening on the honey-brown fiddle.   She looked at Ma, gently rocking and knitting.

She thought to herself, “This is now.”

She was glad that the cosy house, and  Pa and Ma and the fire-light and the music, were now.  They could not be forgotten, she thought, because now is now.  It can never be a long time ago.

Last night, smooshed against Eden and Christopher, I thought of that, how right now is so real and yet, before I know it, the kids are going to be grown and gone.   There is such a strange tension in the passage of time while raising children; the days can crawl and the years fly.
It is what it is.  This is now, and I know that amazingly soon it will be a long time ago.  
May we cherish the time.
  

https://alisonhodgson.com/2008/05/457/

Filed Under: family, good times, love

Twenty-first day of school

September 4, 2007 by Alison Hodgson Leave a Comment

The pool is blue! Paul and I can, once again, hold our heads high…well in this regard.

School is out. We got a late start, but worked hard and and finished early. We still haven’t moved our schoolroom back upstairs. Today I called every one up to help me carry the cedar shingles downstairs. Why did we have cedar shingles? Brace yourself. Just because walls of every sort of paneling, faux brick and faux rock were not enough, the former owners just had to have a wall of cedar shakes.

If I was that sort of blogger I would have taken extensive before pictures…I didn’t. Picture hideous and be satisfied. You can’t handle the truth. I certainly couldn’t. The kids and I are going to be redoing our schoolroom this week. A month ago they help me remove the shingles. Today we put them in the garage and tore out the carpet in the front of the room. Our upstairs is one giant 55 foot long room, but about a third of the way down there is a step up. We have the declared the schoolroom the first third and plan to take down the wallpaper, paint the paneling, the walls and the floor and, hopefully, have a skylight installed and call it good for now.

I want to do this with the kids, for this to be our project and to have fun working together. Paul and I were both taught that work is long, arduous and fraught with anger, frustration, bitterness and fear. We started to teach what we knew and then decided to learn something new. We’ve been working on our work ethic the last year. I want the kids to know that work is just another way of being together and that we all – oh dear I am beginning to sound like a bad corporate employee campaign – who cares.

What if I really believed that Together Everyone Achieves More? Seriously, what if my kids, and Paul and I really GOT that there is a work God has begun in us as this little family and that it will only be brought to fruition as we love and value each other, as we fully receive each other. That’s what I want. I want my kids to know that together we have a work, that only we get to do and I want us to look for it and then do it with joy.

Filed Under: Captain's blog, family, renovation, work

Vacation

July 3, 2007 by Alison Hodgson 1 Comment

I reported here about our inexperience with taking vacations, but we’re changing that. Paul is taking a week off of work and we are going away for a few days in the middle of it. We’re spending a couple nights up at Crystal Mountain and then on for one more in Mackinac City. I am very excited about the first part, especially, as my own family vacations as a child were spent in a rented cottage on Crystal Lake. I love that area, I can’t really express how deeply, except to say my happiest childhood memories are of our times at Crystal Lake.

If you are familiar with Benzie County or either side of the Bridge and have some suggestions of places that should not be missed, I would love to hear about them.


Filed Under: Crystal Lake, family, vacation

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