In my life, I have often recalled a story I read as a kid called The City Mouse and the Country Mouse. In my recollection of the story the two mice journeyed to each other’s homes to see how life was different ”on the other side.” Content in their own universe, they learned an appreciation for the opposite. Having some “country roots” via my dad’s side, a more or less suburban upbringing, and a post college stint in strict ”urban living,” I kind of thought of myself as one mouse embodying it all.
I’m not too keen on the suburbs as I think of them, though I guess some might say I’m getting kind of close in my little yuppy neighborhood. But, hey, it’s still Oakland! The best thing about living in Northern California is that you’ve got the benefits of the city and also some wide open natural spaces really close by. I missed that when living in NYC. I like that I can stroll through downtown San Francisco one day, enjoying the architecture, the city pulse, and the general hubub, and hike through a redwood grove the next. (If you want to get really pansy on the hike, you can actually accomplish it all in San Fran alone, but you get my point.)
Anyhow, it is important to me that Jack get a sense of both the “country life” and the city life. After all, he is named after two cattle farmers. So it is in this spirit that we took him to “The Little Farm” in Tilden Park this weekend.
Yes, we frolicked with the ducks, pigs, goats, and chickens. Jack seemed to enjoy himself and I talked myself into believing that he was indeed making connections between the real life animals and the numerous farm animals he has been forced to play with since birth.
As a side note, a quick look back at the story just now shows how memory can really serve you wrong. Basically the city mouse visits the country mouse and is disturbed by the fact that the country mouse only has barley and rice to eat so he invites country mouse to his digs in the city. Well, city mouse has lots of yummy options for gustatory pleasure but danger lurks in every corner in the form of housemaids, cats, and mouse traps. Country mouse decides it’s just not worth it and goes home to eat in peace. Moral of the story: city is evil and dangerous, country is simple and peaceful. First off, hate that moral. Second, I know that country mouse can get better eats than just barley. Third, what farm doesn’t have a mouser on hand? Jack will not be reading this story anytime soon.
PS After weekend of much outdoor goodness, Jack and I hauled ourselves downtown for a little dose of concrete and chaos for lunch with Special K. It was loverly. Not for everyone, I know. Works for us though!
We’re heading to Alabama tomorrow to visit my sister and Cousin Graham. It’s Birmingham to be precise, so that’s not exactly country, but they do talk funny down there.
Now that we have a son of our own, we’ve been treated to a plethora of early childhood “war stories” featuring ourselves and our siblings. Generally told with smug satisfaction and a gleam in their eye, these stories are meant to warn us of the parental adventures yet to come. In particular, K’s dad likes to recount the story of Ryan (K’s brother) and the time he climbed atop their roof when he was something like six years old. Now I will confess, I found the story hard to believe in its entirety. I thought, surely there us a little bit of embellishment going on here. Perhaps Ryan was older? Or perhaps it wasn’t the roof of the house, but a shed? However, as I watched Jack attempt to scale the changing table this morning, I realized that the story was 100% possible. (My sincere apologies to Roger!) There was Jack hanging from the edge of the table, one foot pushing off of me sitting below and the other foot desperately searching for a perch on the table that would allow for further ascent. I guess Jack will be joining Uncle Ryan and his cousin Sean in Colorado for some rock climbing sooner rather than later. After all, if he is going to spidey his way onto our roof, I want the boy to have proper technique.