Hearts

Emma completed her second project with Pat when she was 6 ½. It was a Valentine’s Day wall hanging. Just like when she was making her bird wall hanging, Emma went over to Pat’s after school a couple of afternoons during January. Pat let Emma pick out a selection of patterned red fabrics from her stash. She showed Emma how to trace a heart onto the fabric from a pattern. Then Emma carefully cut out the hearts, fifteen in all, in about four different fabrics and three different sizes. Emma and Pat arranged the hearts on a large rectangle of white felt and then Pat ironed them on with a special adhesive. Afterward Pat let Emma sew on a few decorative buttons here and there to punctuate the piece. Emma folded over the top and carefully sewed a sleeve to hold a wooden dowel. Then Pat gave Emma some white and red yarn to attach to either end of the dowel. The masterpiece was complete, except for one important detail. A little patch which they added to the back on which Emma carefully wrote, “By Emma. January 23rd, 1999.”

Cowgirl Dreams

Some of my favorite horseback riding memories of Emma come from the times we spent at a guest ranch in Arizona. We went to the ranch for the first time when Emma was in 4th grade and loved it so much that we went back 4 years in a row. Each year when we were contemplating where we should go for our family vacation we would ask the girls if they wanted to go to Disney, where they had never been, or back to the ranch. The ranch won every time.


After a two-year break, we went back to the ranch for a 5th time two years ago. By this time, Emma was a sophomore in high school and had graduated from the kids program, so she was taking lessons and loping tests and going on trail rides with the grown-ups. We weren’t sure how she would handle that transition. She’d always loved the camaraderie of the kids program and we were worried that she wouldn’t find kids her own age to hang out with. We shouldn’t have been concerned, though. It seemed like only minutes after our arrival, both Emma and Sarah were happily ensconced in a group of friends. Now we would just need to worry about whether we would get to spend any time with them.


The picture I’ve included is from the breakfast ride that Sarah, Emma and I went on. We rode our horses up onto a hilltop and then were treated to a fabulous breakfast cooked outside in an elaborate campfire kitchen. We could smell breakfast cooking long before we reached the campsite, so by the time we arrived, we were starving. We hopped off our horses and got in line to wait our turn to be served Frisbee-sized blueberry pancakes that were being made to order and were topped off with melted butter and warm syrup. The pancakes were so big, there wasn't really any room for the eggs, bacon, sausage and biscuits that they were also serving. That required a second trip.


As delightful as that memory is, though, my favorite memory is from our last day at the ranch. Peter, Emma and I (Sarah was too young), joined some other guests to compete in the ranch’s weekly calf penning competition – and we were good! We had three different challenges to complete. We came out on top in two of the three and took home the trophy for the week.


I’m not going to lie. I was pretty thrilled by our win and when we got home I told everyone who would listen all about it. It was at the climax of the story, the part where I describe victoriously bringing home the trophy, that Sarah would pitch in, “You mean that little plastic thing?” She clearly had not enjoyed having to watch our win from the stands. But not even Sarah’s sarcasm could take the shine off my plastic horseshoe trophy.  It still sits on my dresser – a reminder of a place I loved; a place that I will probably never return to because I shared it with Emma and it will never feel the same.

Peas, Please

One day, when Emma was about a year and a half, I asked her what she wanted for dinner. She asked for peas (believe it or not). She was very disappointed when I told her we didn’t have any peas. She thought for a moment and then said, “hot peas?” When I repeated that we didn’t have any peas she asked in an exasperated voice, “cold peas?”

You’ve got to give her points for persistence!

Giddy-up

That time at the ranch for my parents' 50th anniversary, Emma spent a split second on a horse. That’s not an exaggeration. I lifted her onto the saddle and before her bottom even landed on the leather she wanted off. Peter was trying to snap a picture, but the camera shutter just wasn’t fast enough.

Later in life, Emma decided she liked horses just fine. For a few summers she spent a couple of weeks at a half-day riding camp. She did some grooming and learned about the tack and, of course, took riding lessons. She made good progress as a rider and thoroughly enjoyed being at the barn. The little girl who wouldn’t even sit on a horse when she was two had suddenly become completely fearless around horses, which, frankly, concerned us sometimes.

I remember her talking to a new riding teacher at the start of her second summer at the riding camp. The teacher was trying to get a sense of Emma’s riding level and asked her what she had done so far in her riding lessons. Emma volunteered that she had cantered and had even jumped once.

Fortunately, I overheard this conversation. It is true that the summer before one of her mounts had run away with her at a canter when she was supposed to be trotting. It is also true that while this horse was running off with her he hopped over some cross rails. And yes, to Emma’s great credit, she had managed to stay calm and in the saddle the whole time. But to say that she could canter and jump was a shade over-confident.  Needless to say, I set the record straight with the instructor before her lesson began.

This was Emma, though – a study in contradictions. One moment she’d be cautiously observing a classroom activity rather than participating, the next moment she’d be belting out a tune in front of an audience of 100. One moment she’d steadfastly refuse to get on even the tamest of amusement park rides, the next moment she’d be climbing back aboard a 1,000 pound animal that had recently run off with her. I suppose we’re all a little bit like that, but we’ve often thought that the verse from Walt Whitman’s Song of Myself described our Emma; Do I contradict myself? Very well then I contradict myself, (I am large, I contain multitudes)

Kids!

This picture was taken at the celebration of my parent’s 50th wedding anniversary when Emma was two. The weekend-long celebration was held at a dude ranch in upstate New York and the whole clan from my side of the family was in attendance. There were 29 of us in all, including 12 of Emma’s aunts and uncles and 12 cousins ranging in age from 4 to 18.  In honor of this special gathering we had gotten everyone cowboy hats, embroidered polo shirts and blue and red bandanas, so we were all sporting the uniform that Emma was wearing. Our family was easy to spot that weekend.

After a full day of activities and a big family dinner, Peter and I headed back to our room to try to get Emma settled down for bed. Emma was not happy to be leaving before everyone else. She did not like to miss out on fun and she was pretty sure her older cousins were not headed off to bed.

We had gotten her bathed and into her nightgown and were just settling down to read a story when Emma heard a group of her cousins heading down our hall towards the indoor pool. She ran to the door and started banging on it. “Kids, kids, help!” she shouted. “I’m in here. I can’t get the door open!”

The Origin of Fabulous

Go O's!

Even if you knew Emma pretty well, it might surprise you to learn that she was something of a baseball fan.  This really pleased Peter, especially because Emma pledged her loyalty to Peter’s team, the Orioles. It can be hard being an Orioles fan in Yankees territory. Actually, given their record, it can be hard being an Orioles fan, period. So it was great that Peter had Emma to talk to about the trials and tribulations of their team.

About once a year, we would manage to take in an Orioles game at Camden Yards. For Emma, this helped to cement her fondness for the team. For Sarah and me, it helped to cement our fondness for Boog’s Barbecue. While Sarah and I were roaming the stadium looking for pink cotton candy, peanuts, or some other kind of junk food, Emma would sit with Peter, keep score, and cheer on her favorite players. Her most recent favorite was Miguel Tejada. When he would get up to bat she would shout “Come on Tejada!! Let’s go Miguel!!” so loudly that I would have to turn to see if the shouting was really coming from my daughter. Who knew she could she shout like that?!

On one of our trips to Camden Yards, Emma got a Tejada t-shirt which she wore proudly for several years, even here in Yankees territory. She had taken to reading the box scores, and frequently chatted with Peter about how her man, Miguel, was doing. So it was a sad day in our house when the Orioles traded Tejada to another team. Emma remained loyal to the Orioles despite this disappointing decision. When we went to a game at Camden Yards this past April, she still cheered the team on enthusiastically (they lost), but she did not choose a new favorite player. Her baseball heart still belonged to Miguel Tejada.

Well, Emm, I’ve got some good news. Miguel is back with the Orioles. I hope he lives up to your loyalty. And just for you, whenever I see him come up to bat, I’ll be sure to scream. “Come on Tejada!!!” in my very loudest voice.

Treasures (by a substitute blogger)

Emma visited my classroom a lot over the years but only once when school was in session.  It was April 1999.  Emma was in first grade and on vacation.  I had school that week, so I asked if Emma could come with me on Take Your Daughter to School Day.  Emma was really excited.  I was a little nervous.  I taught fourth grade then, and my kids seemed way bigger than little Emma.  I wondered how they would treat her.  I wondered how Emma would react to the day.  I wondered if she would need a lot of my attention. I shouldn’t have worried. 


By the spring of first grade, Emma was an old pro at school.  She joined right in with everything we did.  She led the Pledge, read books during silent reading, joined the line as we walked to Music, fiddled with electrical circuits during science, and even raised her hand to answer a question. She drew pictures when we were doing something that didn’t interest her.  To Emma, it seemed so natural.  She liked school, and she was getting to spend the day with me.  She considered herself part of this new class. 


In the afternoon, Emma worked in the back of the room by herself.  She was cutting, gluing, coloring, and writing busily.  After a while, she walked to the center of the room, her hand raised.  One of my kids pointed this out to me.  “Um, Emma has something to say.” 
“Yes, Emma?” I said.
“I’ve created a  treasure hunt for the class.  Would you like to try it?”  This was really how she talked in first grade.
I hesitated.  She hadn’t told me she was doing this.  We were in the middle of a lesson on something (I’m sure it was very important). I worried that this might be a bit of a management challenge. Twenty-four kids, all hunting for treasure?  Sometimes Emma’s ideas weren’t so practical.
“I’ve made some stars out of blue paper, and I’ve hidden them around the classroom.  I’ve also written some clues.”
I still hesitated.  Fortunately, one of the class leaders, Julian, had really taken a liking to Emma.  He was also very competitive.  “Can we do it?” he asked. “Please?”
I relented.  Emma walked up next to me at the front of the room and read the first clue. The race was on.  At each spot, there was a hand-cut star and a new clue.  Julian led the charge, reading the clue out loud and dashing to the next spot, the whole class following en masse. I watched, amazed at what Emma had done.  The hunt probably lasted about three minutes.  But they’re fixed in my mind.  Julian found the treasure over by the toad’s tank, a special star that Emma had created.  He jumped up and down as though he’d just won the big game.  “Can I keep it?” he asked her.
Emma beamed.  “Well, you won my special treasure hunt, so of course you can keep the treasure.”


I don’t know if Julian still has his treasure, but this is mine.
        -Peter

Emma-isms

One of the things Emma collected was language. She started as an avid listener of books and became an avid reader of books. She listened to or read favorite books over and over and over again. She did the same thing with favorite songs and videos. From every book, song or video, she tucked away words and phrases that caught her ear and she would pull these out and use them when the spirit moved her. It meant that at any given time she might utter something that didn’t seem to fit with her size, her age, or sometimes even the situation.

As a case in point, one time I was sitting across the kitchen table from 3 year-old Emma and was gazing into her adorable little face. “That sure is a sweet little face,” I cooed. Emma replied, “I must warn you, it is!”

Pest in the Neck

Here’s another story excerpted from one of my early mother’s journals. This one happened in September 1995. Emma was three:

Tonight Emma told her daddy that he was a “pest in the neck.” He asked her what a pest in the neck was. She answered, “A pest in the neck is a big person who tells a three year old what to do.”

So there!

Charms

I was searching through my car for something the other day and I came across a small stash of charms that Emma had made. She had made them in her freshman year of high school. She was participating in awareness activities for World AIDS Day and had made the charms to sell to fellow students to help raise money for AIDS prevention.

The charms are simple, but beautiful. They feature a circular coil of gold wire that straightens at the top to hold three small red beads. On top of the red beads is a little circle of wire to allow the charm to be strung on a necklace or bracelet. Emma made these charms completely out of materials we had on hand. She had a large collection of the small seed beads that she used.  For the wire she used, rather ingeniously I thought, gold paperclips that we had on hand. No one who looked at these little charms would have guessed that they started as paperclips.

Emma was always doing this – getting a creative impulse and then making something beautiful out of the very ordinary. When she went on an Appalachian Service Project trip to West Virginia, she crafted necklaces for her friends and crewmates out of materials she found. She made me earrings very much like the charms she made for World AIDS Day. One Saturday afternoon she sewed Sarah a skirt out of scrap material we had on hand.

It was heartening to find those little charms in my car because I know that there are many more Emma creations out there in the world, safely securing Emma in the hearts and minds of those who possess them.

From My Journal

For the first three years of Emma’s life, I kept a pretty detailed mother’s journal. It was actually the first time in my life that I had ever kept a journal, but Emma was doing things every day that I felt just had to be recorded. Later, I couldn’t find the kind of journal I had been using and moved to recording milestones and memories for both my girls on our calendars. I have many years of those saved, as well. So far, I’ve been pulling my posts from the cobwebs of my mind. This weekend, however, I decided to dip into my journals to see what I would find. Here’s a story I stumbled across that I had completely forgotten.

Emma was two. We were out doing errands and had stopped at a full service gas station (remember those?) to fill up the car. The gas station attendant was quite taken with Emma. He was going on and on about how beautiful she was. He just couldn’t let it rest. Emma was clearly quite pleased by his compliments, but she just quietly smiled. When we drove away, Emma finally spoke up. “That was a smart man!” she exclaimed.

Pronunciations

Emma always had a remarkable ear for language. Maybe that’s why there were very few things that Emma mispronounced, even when she was first learning to talk. I do remember a few, though. She called a wash cloth a wath closh. She called a bathing suit a bailing suit. For a long time, she called her leotard a lead guitar; dessert, for-sert and whipped cream, with cream.

When she got into her teens, she would occasionally mispronounce a word that she had read, but had never heard spoken and when we would try to correct her she would get indignant. One night I remember Emma was talking about how much she liked some wafer cookies that we had received as a gift. “I love those wah-fer cookies,” she said. “Actually, it’s pronounced way-fer,” Peter or I noted. “Well, I pronounce it wah-fer,” Emma declared with great authority. We have pronounced it wah-fer in our house ever since.

Another Letter to Santa

Remember the legendary squash ring from my post about Thanksgiving 1994? Well, that squash ring made a big impression on Emma because it made another guest appearance in her Christmas letter.

I found a Christmas letter that Emma dictated to me in 1994 when she was 2 ½. It went like this:

Dear Santa,

My dear friend of Christmas. We’re going to go a happy Christmas, huh?

Please bring me some stockings and some presents. Put them on the fireplace. Please bring me the Tale of Gloucester (she meant The Tailor of Gloucester by Beatrix Potter. We had the video and she wanted the book) and a wash ring (she meant a squash ring).

Love, Emma

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The Origin of Fabulous

Some pictures speak for themselves. Here's one that does:

The Gift of Gab

When Emma was 7 and Sarah was 3, we decided to travel down to visit Peter’s parents in the Washington, D.C. area via Amtrak. I’ll admit that this was my idea. Somehow, I thought taking the train would make this trip that we routinely took by car seem like a new adventure. It turned out to be more of a cautionary tale on toilet training.

You see Sarah was newly toilet trained. I thought this factor was a check in the pro column for taking the train, but I had overlooked two things. I had forgotten that on the train, Sarah would not be strapped into a car seat. And, I had forgotten that newly toilet-trained toddlers have a fascination bordering on obsession with public bathrooms. These two overlooked, but very important facts, made our train trips a different kind of adventure than we had bargained for. (Bear with me on this. There is a part about Emma)

Since Sarah was not strapped into a car seat, Peter and I took turns accompanying Sarah through each car of the train to visit every single one of the bathrooms on the train. There were multiple delays on the trip down to Washington, so our 4-hour trip turned into a 6- hour trip. That gave Sarah ample time to visit every bathroom on the train at least 100 times each. We traveled back and forth through the cars of the train so many times that the other passengers on the train got to know us. It became like a re-enactment of the regular bar scene from the TV show Cheers. We’d enter the car and a bunch of passengers would look up and cheer “Sarah!!”

On the trip back home, our family was seated near a man who was an elementary principal in a southern state. He was on vacation and was headed to visit friends in New York. About an hour into our trip he struck up a conversation with us. Peter and I were distracted by our need to keep track of whose turn it was it was to accompany Sarah to the bathroom(s), so Emma took the conversation ball and ran with it. For the next three hours she gabbed to this southern educator about just about everything under the sun: school, dance, music, her collections, her family, her town, her friends, you name it. Had we thought she was bothering this kind man, we would have intervened; but he was fully and happily engaged in his conversation with Emma. In fact, when we got to New York and had to part ways, I think he was really sorry that their conversation had to end.

I don’t know that man’s name. I can’t even remember what state he was from. But I can tell you this with great certainty – he has never forgotten Emma.

The Ultimate Collection

One of Emma’s more unique collections was her toothbrush collection. Yup, you read that right – her toothbrush collection. And we’re not talking new toothbrushes, either.

I’m not sure when Emma started getting attached to her toothbrushes – maybe she was 4 or 5. When she needed a new toothbrush, I would let her pick one out at the grocery store from a selection of appropriate choices. She would gladly accept a new toothbrush as long as we agreed to save her old one. She worked through all the classics. She had Sesame Street toothbrushes, princess toothbrushes, Barbie toothbrushes and more. Even after she outgrew the character toothbrushes, she still wanted to hang on to her old toothbrushes and add them to the growing collection.

The toothbrush collection was stored haphazardly in the small linen closet in the bathroom that the girls shared. It had grown rather large and took up too much space in the closet, but we didn’t really mind. We didn’t need the space for anything else. That was until we decided to renovate the bathroom.

The plan for the renovation called for the elimination of the linen closet. We didn’t really need it anymore. The towels fit easily in a hall linen closet. We’d be adding a vanity where we could store all the toiletries that had been stashed in the closet and the girls were ready to get rid of the bath toys that took up most of the rest of the space. That left the toothbrush collection. Where would we put the toothbrush collection if we eliminated the closet?!

Peter described this dilemma to a friend, who thought it was time that the unique collection had a more suitable showcase. An avid and talented craftsman, he quietly set to work on the project. About a week later, he presented Emma with a custom-crafted wood toothbrush holder. It had her name carved into the front and had space to hold about 50 of her most prized toothbrushes.

Emma was tickled by the gift. It was a one-of-a-kind gift made for a one-of-a-kind girl.

Emma's collections

Emma was an avid collector. At one time or another she collected coins, stamps, feathers, rocks, beads, jewelry, Beanie Babies, Barbies, Pokemon cards, and nutcrackers. By high school she had a rather impressive collection of instruments: a recorder, a lap harp, a mini steel drum, 2 flutes, a piccolo, a clarinet, a sax and a guitar. She had amassed a rather impressive collection of hats and ties and even had multiple trench coats, a signature fashion statement of hers.

I remember a time when Emma was having a conversation with someone she had just met. She was telling the person a little bit about herself and mentioned that she liked collecting things. “Oh, what do you collect?” her new acquaintance asked. “I collect collections,” she replied succinctly.

Sully and Mike

The movie, Monsters Inc. came out on video when Emma was 10 and was a favorite in our house. For Christmas that year, Santa brought a cup holder for the bathroom with the Monster Inc. characters, Sully and Mike. The cup holder found a home on the back of the toilet in the small bathroom off our family room. I was often puzzled because I would go into the bathroom and find Sully and Mike facing the wall. I would turn them around again so that you could see their faces, but the next time I went in the bathroom, there they’d be with their faces to the wall again.


This went on for months, when finally Peter spoke up when we were all together. “You know, it’s odd, but every time I go into the bathroom, Mike and Sully are facing the wall. I turn them around, but the next thing I know, they’re facing the wall again.” “I noticed that, too!” I said. It was quiet for a moment and then Emma spoke up. “I’m doing that,” she said. “ I can’t stand them staring at me when I go to the bathroom!”

Letters from Camp

Yesterday was the annual reunion for the camp that Emma attended for 5 years and that Sarah still attends. It reminded me of this story.

Emma’s first summer at the camp she attended in the Adirondacks was the summer after she finished fifth grade. Actually, it wasn’t just Emma’s first summer there. Our whole family went to camp together for 5 years. Peter had been a camper at the same camp when he was a kid and when it was time for Emma to go to there, they offered him a job at the boy’s camp. About a week before camp started we packed up way too much stuff and headed north for the whole summer. Emma settled in at the girls’ camp and Peter, Sarah (who was still too young to be an overnight camper), our dog, Willow, and I settled in at the boys’ camp about a half mile away.

Even though I saw Emma pretty much every day when I was bringing Sarah to and from the girls’ camp for the day, she was still required to write the weekly letter home, just like all the campers whose parents didn’t live at camp. Peter and I craved these letters from Emma. The brief sightings and occasional conversations we had with her during the week didn’t really give us a full picture of what she was up to. It turns out the letters didn’t either.

One of my all-time favorite letters from Emma that summer went like this:

Dear Mom and Dad:

Yesterday we had a candy store. I got a 3 Musketeers bar. Have you ever had a 3 Musketeers bar? It has a fluffy, white nougat center and is covered in chocolate. It's delicious.

Love,
Emma

Bozo

As Emma got older she became more self-aware and got a better handle on her fearfulness. In fact, she even developed a sense of humor about it. I remember a car ride about two years ago. We were talking about the various Disney World resorts because we were planning a trip there. Sarah was telling us about one of the resorts a friend had just been to. "The pool has a slide that comes out of the mouth of a giant clown's head. Isn't that cool?!" Sarah exclaimed. "Oh my God!" said Emma with a mixture of horror and amusement, "That's my worst nightmare!"

TV Screen(er)

There’s no question that Emma was a very sensitive child. In fact, despite her demeanor of bravado and her willingness to perform in front of hundreds of people without a blink of an eye, I would describe her as somewhat fearful.

Her fearfulness did present some challenges to her, especially when she was younger. She needed to observe new situations before she could join in. She didn’t like loud noises or to be taken by surprise. Halloween set her on edge for the whole month of October and she regarded clowns as public enemy number one. The circus was not even an option until she was nearly a teenager. 

She was also very sensitive about what she watched or listened to. As a result, she watched nothing but public children’s television and carefully selected videos until she was probably 10 or older. Even then, though, she was occasionally exposed to something that made her uncomfortable. I remember times when she was 3 or 4 that she would come get me if I was out of the room when the shows would change or she’d get to a suspenseful part of a Disney movie. “Mommy, you need to turn off the TV. Something’s on that’s inappropriate!”

Can You Say Anemone?

One of Emma’s favorite kind of books when she was a toddler were those ABC’s of nature books. You know the ones. They use the alphabet to share information about a range of kinds of  animals and plants. Emma had one on sea creatures that she was obsessed with. We read that book cover to cover at least once or twice a week and she loved memorizing the names of the creatures featured for each letter.

When she was 3 we took Emma to the Baltimore aquarium for the first time. I don’t think she really knew what to expect when we told her we were going to an aquarium, but when she got inside and saw all those massive tanks filled with sea plants and creatures she was beside herself. The aquarium was dark and crowded, so we struggled to keep hold of her hand as she enthusiastically darted from tank to tank. She recognized much of what she saw from her book and it was thrilling – like being invited to attend the Academy Awards and getting a chance to mingle with your favorite movie stars.

One scene from this trip sticks in my head. Peter and I were employing the one parent in front, one parent in back strategy for Emma containment, so I was a tank ahead in the aquarium waiting for Emma and Peter to arrive. It was a tank full of clown fish and anemone. As I stood there, a man was reading a plaque to his adult companions that described what they were seeing in the tank. He got stuck on the word anemone and began sounding it out, “Ah – knee – moe…” Just then, Emma came bounding up to the tank. She instantly recognized the tank’s inhabitants and gleefully started shouting, “Anemone! Anemone! Anemone!”

The man who had been incorrectly sounding out the word anemone, looked down at Emma and then back at the plaque, a look of surprise blooming on his face. You could see the wheels turning in his head; wondering if she had just read the word that had stumped him or had recognized the sea animal. He looked at his friends with a sheepish grin, clearly wondering if they were thinking what he was thinking – that he had just been outwitted by a 3 year-old. He was a good sport, though. He smiled at Emma and then coaxed his group of friends to move on. And perhaps I imagined it, but it seemed to me that their pace had gotten a bit quicker, keeping them always one or two tanks ahead of us.

The Universal Language

Last night we were flipping through some pictures from a trip to Sweden that we took with the girls when Emma was eight and Sarah was four. Peter’s father grew up in Sweden and we have a lot of family there. We especially wanted Emma and Sarah to meet their Swedish great grandmother, Jane, one of two Janes who had inspired Emma’s middle name. But the girls also got to meet great aunts and uncles and lots of second cousins and cousins once removed.

We stayed just outside Stockholm at the house of one of Peter’s cousins. His cousin and his wife also had two girls, one who was a year or so younger than Emma and another who was Sarah’s age. The oldest of the two girls, Louise, was beginning to take English in school, but at the time, really only had command of some random English vocabulary. The younger daughter, Eleanor, spoke no English at all and neither of our girls spoke any Swedish. This did not hamper their friendship, however. The four girls got on like a house on fire from the very first time they met. They watched Pippi Longstocking episodes in Swedish on television and our girls laughed along like they understood every word. They would also play elaborate made up games and, somehow, everyone seemed to understand the object and rules of these games.

I remember the first evening that the girls met each other.  By the time dinner ended the girls were already at ease with one another and began playing. The four parents sat in the living room marveling at how easily they seemed to be able to communicate despite the lack of a shared language. They were playing a game of their own invention that seemed to require that you shout out colors in Swedish. Emma and Sarah easily picked up on these words and were playing right along. Then they moved on to a game that involved some racing about the room.  Since most of the game was being conducted in Swedish, Peter and I were at a real loss to figure out what they were doing. Just before they would race off, Louise seemed to be saying something like ready, set, go. I asked Peter’s cousin, Gabriel, for a translation. “What is Louise saying? It has the rhythm of ready, set, go.” “ I have no idea what she’s saying,” Gabriel replied. “It’s not Swedish. I think she thinks she’s speaking English.”

I’ve always thought the world would be a better place if we could all be a little more like those four children were right then - if our hearts were so open, that different languages, different cultures, different faiths, different orientations didn’t present barriers to understanding; if our only criteria for friendship was the willingness to play along.

I’m proud to say that Emma never outgrew that most precious childlike quality. She never adopted that typical teen self-consciousness and she was the most open-hearted person I have ever known. I know that it was not always easy to go through life that way. It can be hard to live in a world filled with judgment and rejection when you have not built walls to protect your fragile heart.

Which brings me back to the scene of those four young cousins playing together for the first time in a language of their own creation. What made that gathering work so miraculously well was that they all embraced each other with their hearts wide open.

It’s something to think about.

The Origin of Fabulous

This is one of my all-time favorite Emma pictures. Emma had a way of smiling with her entire face. Her eyes, her nose, her mouth, every part of her face got caught up in that broad grin. And when she was very small , her whole body got into the act, like in this picture where she's drawing her cookie hands right up towards her face in joy and excitement. You can't look at this picture and not smile. This is the gift of Emma.

Emma Takes Washington

From the time she was very little, Emma loved to learn everything there was to know about topics that were interesting to her. We found this to be a very charming quality, but it did have its drawbacks. For example, Emma found the small “research” projects that were assigned in elementary school very frustrating. Students were meant to restrict their research to the identification of 3-4 key facts. The bulk of a student's time was meant to be spent on perfecting their prose. To Emma, this was all backwards.

An assignment she was given in third grade illuminated this issue for all of us. Emma was to choose a Washington landmark, find 3 key facts, and then write a 5 paragraph report. Emma chose the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts and enthusiastically began collecting pearls of information about this landmark. As the days wore on, Emma’s teacher became more and more frustrated because Emma could not seem to move beyond the research phase of the assignment. Emma was also frustrated because her teacher was insisting she stop her research when there was clearly more to learn. In the end, Emma begrudgingly chose 3 of the 100 or more facts she had collected and wrote the short required paper, but it was not satisfying for her.

We were in the Washington, DC area about a month later visiting Peter’s parents, so we decided to take a tour of the Kennedy Center. We thought that might be a way for Emma to re-connect with the enthusiasm she had felt when she was doing her research. We were right.

Our tour guide at the Kennedy Center was an enthusiastic and distinguished 70-something gentleman. In order to keep everyone on the tour engaged in his spiel, he had adopted a practice of asking rhetorical questions at various points during the tour. His plan was to get you thinking, even allow you take an uneducated guess, and then share his vast wisdom with you. He did not plan on Emma.

As we strolled through the various rooms, he began with the questions. “How many seats do you suppose there are in this concert hall?” he asked our tour of mostly adults. “2,442” Emma piped in. The tour guide’s smile faded just a little as he searched for the respondent. “That’s right,” he replied. “Very lucky guess.” As our tour moved on, Emma continued to answer the tour guide’s rhetorical questions. “And what country do you suppose gave this tapestry as a gift?” our tour guide asked as we approached a magnificent wall hanging in another room. “Spain,” Emma chimed in enthusiastically. “Okay,” the tour guide said, “But who can tell me the name of the artist whose work inspired this tapestry?” “Goya” responded Emma without hesitation.

By now, the rest of our tour was both amused and intrigued by the little duel that was unfolding between Emma and the tour guide. For his part, the tour guide was getting visibly irritated that a little twerp was stealing his thunder.  Emma, however, was blissfully oblivious. This is what she had been waiting for; a chance to share all those facts that she had collected and stored in that brain of hers. And she was loving it.

The tour concluded in the grand foyer and the tour guide was determined to end on a high note. You could tell that he thought he had a question obscure enough that even Emma would not be able to answer it. He pointed to the magnificent Orrefors crystal chandeliers and looked Emma square in the eyes.  “How many bulbs do you think are in all of the chandeliers hanging in this foyer?” he asked with an almost sinister grin. “8,000,” Emma answered confidently. “No,” he snapped. “There are 8,500!” He was happy now. He ended the tour with a smile on his face, wishing us all a pleasant stay in Washington, DC.

As we headed back to the car, Emma felt the need to comment on the tour. “Boy, that guy was a little grumpy. And, I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but he was wrong about how many bulbs there are in those chandeliers. There are 8,000.” And you know what? She was right.


Take a virtual tour of the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts by clicking here

New Year's EvE

Emma's cousin, Malin found this photo.  It's a match.

The Polar Pillow

Peter’s 5th grade memory made me think of another. Every year the 5th grade had an invention convention. Each 5th grader was supposed to come up with an original invention to solve an every day problem and then construct a prototype and marketing materials for display at the convention.

Emma had an immediate idea about what she wanted to build inspired by a problem that she had and wanted to solve. It was not a problem that I knew anything about. You see, Emma was a pillow turner. She would turn her pillow over and over during the night so that she could have her face on the cool side of the pillow. She wanted to invent something that would keep her pillow cool all night so that she wouldn’t have to turn it.

I was skeptical about the broad appeal of an invention like this. I had never encountered anyone else who turned her pillow over in search of a cool spot. But as I mentioned Emma’s plan to family, friends and colleagues, I actually found that this was quite common. “Oh yeah, I do that!” people would say. “Let me know what she comes up with.”

Emma came up with a rather elaborate concept for solving the problem. She weaved some plastic tubing back and forth across the underside of a pillow. The plastic tubing originated in a thermal jug of chilled water on one side of the bed and emptied into a bucket on the other. The invention relied on siphoning properties (don’t ask me to explain this) to draw the chilled water from the jug, through the plastic tubing, where it would cool off the pillow before emptying into the bucket. It was complicated, but it did, in fact, work. Emma used it for several nights before she had to take it to the convention for display.  Emma dubbed her product the “Polar Pillow.” Her marketing materials featured photos of Emma herself sleeping peacefully, thanks to the virtues of the Polar Pillow, and she got a neighbor to give an enthusiastic testimonial.

About a year after that invention convention we were on a flight to Arizona. I was flipping through one of those airline catalogs that they put in the seat pockets when I came across a product called the “Chillow.” The marketing copy said something like, “Are you tossing and turning all night because your pillow gets too hot?”  It was Emma’s product!

Okay, I’ll admit that the “Chillow” had to have already been in R&D, if not production, to be on the market just one year later. And I will also admit that the design was much simpler and more practical; a gel insert that you would chill in the freezer and then stick in your pillowcase. But you have to hand it to Emma. She had put her finger on a really viable product idea – and, personally,  I liked her name better.

Snowflakes - Peter Remembers

This memory is written and shared by Peter:


Emma adored her fifth grade teacher and so did we.  Emma loved Mrs. C because she loved science (they hatched chicks) and she loved technology (she knew how to do cool stuff on the computers).  Mostly, Emma loved that Mrs. C was her own person.  She didn’t care much about staying in step with the crowd.  We loved her because she seemed to understand Emma.

In December, Mrs. C showed the kids how to make snowflake designs on the computer using AppleWorks (remember that?).  The process involved some creativity, quite a bit of geometry, and many, many steps. When Emma got home, she couldn’t wait to show me how to create snowflakes.  “I think your class will like this, Dad.”  I was often stealing ideas from Mrs. C that year.  Emma walked me through the steps. Using the paint tool, we created a shape, cut sections away, duplicated, rotated by degrees, flipped (the shape, that is), and connected.  Then rinse and repeat. Emma repeated the steps patiently for me, though she was probably frustrated by how many repetitions I required before mastering the process.  I’m guessing it took Emma a few moments to learn.  It took me more like an hour, and that was with one-on-one tutoring. 

When I finally could create a snowflake independently, I was hooked.  Together we printed a blizzard of snowflakes, but I was worried that I’d forget the process by the time I got to school. So Emma and I typed up a handy set of directions.  We titled it “Painting a Snowflake with Appleworks in 29 Easy Steps.”

To me, those snowflakes were pure Emma, beautiful…and complicated.