Maybe it was because Daniel was working like a fiend on his autobiography project---and I was helping him compile photos from growing up, and reading his version of the memories. I don't know if it is a sad tribute to the Suzuki method of violin, or to me....but I had forgotten how we used to argue about the proper placement of the margarine box/paint stick that was his first violin. Really Suzuki? I was supposed to sit in on all the lessons and practice with him every day? I was supposed to remember and reinforce the exact placement of his elbow, and he was going to remember that forever.? Sigh.
My parents bought us this glider--where they wisely guessed we might spend hours with babies. I'm most nostalgic about those middle of the night feedings, where I was alone in the world with each baby, in turn. The little cottage we lived in had these weird orange sconces. I fell in love with those little bald heads in this chair. In that quiet orange glow, I learned what Sylvia Boorstein meant--when she talked about mortgaging my heart for life.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju1aYm-0dkX4y44J-ol5KC4oRIQgkoNL1i39tWQLXYEVaj_OVHoUpbRkfcPONI7XZU_5H7GmneN4Q69iaHZlrnXZan-5iBQYLG95Ewj7cviEJO5Q1DXrCvsE6pVLTPR459yHzGBGDMdOA0/s400/Shelby+and+Dan.jpeg)
Stop by my office. You are welcome to take a moment to sit in my chair and look at Boundary Waters.
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