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Tuesday, May 02, 2006
Pattern Interrupt
Greetings, Gentle Reader.
I'm interrupting my typical pattern of Sunday evening blogs for no particular reason, yet it is worth noting that we have cleared the $3,000 mark in pledges which, you will remember, go to the Financial Aid budget of The Boys' Latin School. This is an extraordinary sum, considering that we have not made it especially easy for you to pledge. Many of you have emailed your pledges directly to Kathy, some have intercepted Peg or me in person, and still others have emailed me at alfrei@earthlink.net. If you choose to employ any of these resourceful mediums, please make sure that I get your home address so that I can expedite the shipment of your "I'm Pulling for Mr. Frei" button. They're hot. I draw blood each morning putting mine on, but don't let that deter you. I'm not a morning person.
I do hope that you will take advantage of the "Notify" list (look to the left: there it is!) so that you can get a heads up whenever I update this tome. Just follow the simple directions - as I have not yet been able to do successfully - and you will automatically be kept abreast of The Plan. You are certainly not going to be sitting on the edge of your seat while the launch date is still three months away and, frankly, once I push off, it is not as if I will be heading to Baltimore at breakneck speed. But just knowing you are interested is an incentive of sorts. So sign up.
My journey was almost cut tragically short today, three months before it will begin.
One of my duties as an eighth grade English teacher (under the "other duties as assigned" fine print of my contract) is to help with the end-of-day car pool at school. Picture, Gentle Reader, a phalanx of autos (a high proportion of them SUV's)heading up the hill to our school, driven by anxious moms and dads on tight schedules, many with the ubitiquous cell phone affixed to their ears, jockeying for an advantageous position from which to snatch their sons from our care. It's great fun, actually, and I'm always amazed at the grace and consideration which most of the contestants show for one another and for the the hapless faculty members who masquerade as traffic directors. It imbues in us a false sense of vehicular authority, dressed as we are in our natty end-of-day athletic garb and wielding pedagogical responsibilities for their sons.
Today I made the nearly-fatal mistake of assuming that the halo effect of successful carpool management at school could translate to the mini-mall at the bottom of our hill where I often pick up an early evening latte (a.k.a., a seditive). As I was approaching my car which was parked on the far side of the parking lot, an imposing SUV (Lincoln Navigator? Ford Expedition? Escalade? Whatever. The ground shook.) It headed for me at a pretty good clip. Trapped awkwardly in the middle of the thoroughfare, I casually raised my hand in a smilingly submissive request for a stay of execution - a gesture that works magic in the BL carpool - only to discover that my appeal had a Bizzaro World effect. The SUV charged on, accelerating, it seemed, and I stepped briskly out of the way, safe by scant inches. The SUV shot past me, the faceless drone offering me her own winsome "gesticulation" as she rumbled by.
I'm being overly-dranatic, to be sure, but crimminey, this thing could be over in a heartbeat. So keep the pledges coming and, considering incidents such as these, maybe pre-payment is a good idea?
As Kay, my mentor and friend, sagely displays on her bumper: "Put the cell phone away. You're not that cool."
Latah!
Mr. Frei
I'm interrupting my typical pattern of Sunday evening blogs for no particular reason, yet it is worth noting that we have cleared the $3,000 mark in pledges which, you will remember, go to the Financial Aid budget of The Boys' Latin School. This is an extraordinary sum, considering that we have not made it especially easy for you to pledge. Many of you have emailed your pledges directly to Kathy, some have intercepted Peg or me in person, and still others have emailed me at alfrei@earthlink.net. If you choose to employ any of these resourceful mediums, please make sure that I get your home address so that I can expedite the shipment of your "I'm Pulling for Mr. Frei" button. They're hot. I draw blood each morning putting mine on, but don't let that deter you. I'm not a morning person.
I do hope that you will take advantage of the "Notify" list (look to the left: there it is!) so that you can get a heads up whenever I update this tome. Just follow the simple directions - as I have not yet been able to do successfully - and you will automatically be kept abreast of The Plan. You are certainly not going to be sitting on the edge of your seat while the launch date is still three months away and, frankly, once I push off, it is not as if I will be heading to Baltimore at breakneck speed. But just knowing you are interested is an incentive of sorts. So sign up.
My journey was almost cut tragically short today, three months before it will begin.
One of my duties as an eighth grade English teacher (under the "other duties as assigned" fine print of my contract) is to help with the end-of-day car pool at school. Picture, Gentle Reader, a phalanx of autos (a high proportion of them SUV's)heading up the hill to our school, driven by anxious moms and dads on tight schedules, many with the ubitiquous cell phone affixed to their ears, jockeying for an advantageous position from which to snatch their sons from our care. It's great fun, actually, and I'm always amazed at the grace and consideration which most of the contestants show for one another and for the the hapless faculty members who masquerade as traffic directors. It imbues in us a false sense of vehicular authority, dressed as we are in our natty end-of-day athletic garb and wielding pedagogical responsibilities for their sons.
Today I made the nearly-fatal mistake of assuming that the halo effect of successful carpool management at school could translate to the mini-mall at the bottom of our hill where I often pick up an early evening latte (a.k.a., a seditive). As I was approaching my car which was parked on the far side of the parking lot, an imposing SUV (Lincoln Navigator? Ford Expedition? Escalade? Whatever. The ground shook.) It headed for me at a pretty good clip. Trapped awkwardly in the middle of the thoroughfare, I casually raised my hand in a smilingly submissive request for a stay of execution - a gesture that works magic in the BL carpool - only to discover that my appeal had a Bizzaro World effect. The SUV charged on, accelerating, it seemed, and I stepped briskly out of the way, safe by scant inches. The SUV shot past me, the faceless drone offering me her own winsome "gesticulation" as she rumbled by.
I'm being overly-dranatic, to be sure, but crimminey, this thing could be over in a heartbeat. So keep the pledges coming and, considering incidents such as these, maybe pre-payment is a good idea?
As Kay, my mentor and friend, sagely displays on her bumper: "Put the cell phone away. You're not that cool."
Latah!
Mr. Frei
