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LITCHFIELD, SC - Vacation can be a time for moments of insight and tenderness. One such moment came this week for me at a restaurant here in South Carolina called Studio Café. (You can see my Yelp! review here).

The restaurant is also an art studio and the owner, Pat Ghannam, both shows here work there and serves tables when they are short staffed. She was serving us that day and she mentioned that the chef was her husband and a co-owner of the restaurant.

At few minutes later, when other members of the table were engrossed in conversation, ArtGirl (7) came to sit on my lap. She had something she wanted to tell me; it was a revelation she'd had.

This is what she whispered in my ear:

ArtGirl: Daddy, I think when you decide who to marry, you should try to find someone who makes you better.

Me: I think that is a great way to think about it, Sweetheart. But how come you are thinking about that now?

ArtGirl: Well, it's like the server. She is an artist and a server, but her husband is the chef who makes the food for the restaurant. Neither of them could do it alone, but together they can.

And it's like Mommy and you. There are some things Mom does to make you better and there are some things that you do to make her better.

Me: You know something, you are a very wise person.

And think about this: when you have that sort of relationship, it can also happen that you might just have a daughter, and maybe even two daughters, like you and [DancinGirl], to make your whole family better.

Then we hugged and went back to lunch.

Dear DancinGirl:

It happened without warning, without any hint that the end was at hand. Suddenly, there it was: May 27th, the day after the last day of the preschool year, the announcement that St. Andrew's Episcopal Church would close the Preschool that was born, lived and thrived within and around its walls over the past 40 years.

Death often comes that way, unbidden, suddenly. But we expected more from a church that had until that date, served as a caring site for an educational community that nurtured generations of young State College students. 

Aristotle, of course, famously said: "For it is by way of wondering that people both now and at first began to philosophize ..." (Metaphysics, I.2, 982b13-4).

Tonight, ArtGirl began to philosophize. She wondered so eloquently that I had to share it. As we were preparing for bed, she began to consider the beginning of things.

In this short audio clip recorded on the spot, she beautifully articulates a poignant sense of her own finitude, and she does it in a remarkably matter of fact way. 

Today is DancinGirl's birthday and it has been a day of well, dancing. And on Saturday, at her princess dance party, we will dance some more.

In case you are not familiar with the sort of dancing this little person does, here is a taste of some of her work a few years back.

Last night when Val was saying goodnight to our four-year-old for the last time, we were a bit wistful. After Val suggested that we might just try to hold onto her being four years old a bit longer, DancinGirl said:

"Only if we take a very long trip to Never Never Land."

So it is with her and so it has always been: she is who she is, she is where she is and she is fully present to those who encounter her. I admire that, and learn from it each day.

As I watch her grow, I am amazed by the way she inhabits the world. Some people resist the rhythms of the earth, the seasons and the recalcitrant firmness of things. Some of us lack a degree of flexibility and nimbleness in our dealings with one another. But DancinGirl moves fluidly and with a peculiar and endearing grace that is all her own, as she enters into the lives of those she meets.  Because of this, people seem to be moved by her and move toward her, for they, like me, feel somehow affirmed simply by being in her presence.

Last year, I did a little interview with DancinGirl to capture something of her four-year-old self.  This year again, we took a few moments to consider things as she now turns five:

DancinGirl Turns 5

I wish her a very happy birthday today.

On Sunday, ArtGirl stood in front of the mirror looking at herself. I noticed two things: she seemed bigger to me and she was not holding her favorite stuffed animal, Jelly Dog.

It was then that she told me that she was going to try to stop carrying Jelly Dog with her everywhere.

For almost two years, this little stuffed animal was always with her, tucked into the crook of her elbow and hanging over her forearm like a limp appendage.

Throughout kindergarten, Jelly Dog would travel to school, sleep in her backpack during class, and join her on the playground where, somehow, she learned to do the monkey bars without ever fully extending the arm with which she held Jelly.

To see the two of them at dinner was quite a scene. Every item of food ArtGirl ate was first "tasted" by Jelly. She would first pass each bite by Jelly's mouth before eating it herself; every drink was "sipped" by Jelly before she drank it herself.

During this time, her deepest existential concerns found expression in relation to Jelly. She would often say:

"I know Jelly is not real, but I think he is real." Or: "What will happen to Jelly when I die?" Or: "I don't want Jelly to die."

So it came as a surprise to hear her announce on Sunday that she was going to let Jelly go. But there it was ... and she marched upstairs to put him away in the room where we store a rather large collection of stuffed animals.

She came downstairs in tears. We hugged for a long time.

All day she struggled not to go back and get him, but she missed Jelly.

During this time, she said the most beautiful, poignant and remarkable things.

She said:

"It doesn't feel right with him, but it doesn't feel right without him."

She said:

"I want to go and get him, but if I take him back, I will have to go through this sadness again."

On Sunday night, I brought him back for her so she could sleep. You see, her mother is wise, and she suggested that "going cold turkey" was perhaps not the best option and that we should instead just try to leave him at home when we went out. We agreed, a weaning process would be best.

ArtGirl told me: "Cold turkey is not for me."

But by Monday night, she had gone most of the day without him. When I asked her if she wanted me to get him for her she said:

"I do want you to get him, but I don't want you to get him."

I understood perfectly and suggested that perhaps she needed a little back scratching to help her fall asleep tonight. So there we sat, me scratching her back, her missing Jelly, me thinking how I admired her process, and her falling asleep.

We celebrated on Tuesday when she woke up having slept without him.

And now it is Thursday, and we visited her new school as she prepares for first grade.

We talk about Jelly sometimes, but we both agree that Jelly did his job and is enjoying his retirement with his other stuffed friends.

MYRTLE BEACH, SC

Today is ArtGirl's birthday and I am feeling the need to mark the moment with a few reflections about some of the things I admire about my daughter.

ORLANDO, FL - My first visit to Disney World surprised me.

Before I had two girls, I never thought I would be interested in visiting a place that stood, in my mind, for all that was wrong with American culture: traditional gender roles, naive optimism, obsession with spectacle over substance...

And yet this, as with so much else for me, changed when DancinGirl and ArtGirl entered my life. Watching the Disney stories through their eyes brought another dimension of Disney into sharp relief: the power of imagination, the importance of narrative and the recognition that the force of the bad in world is real and needs to be combated it with intentional, decisive action.

I also began to see beneath the surface of the stereotypes some more progressive ideals. Already in Sleeping Beauty, for example, the three older female fairies turn out to be the most resourceful, brave and heroic characters in this or any other Disney story.

The tension between progressive values and destructive, regressive tendencies is endemic to the Disney experience. It was most palpable for me this past week at the Circle of Life attraction at Epcot.

The movie begins with Timon and Pumbaa damming rivers in order to build "Hakuna Matata Lakeside Village," a resort in the desert that will bring people from far and wide, making them rich in the process. The wise Simba tells them that the animals down river depend on that water for their livelihood. He then goes on to tell them a compelling tale of another species of creature who forgot the way all living beings are connected in a great circle of life: human beings.

He unravels an Aesop fable in reverse - with animals telling the story of foolish human beings who presumed all of nature was at their disposal, taking no heed of the destruction they wrought. Images of large factories, gas guzzling vehicles, oil wells aflame and the lights of Vegas abound ... and yet not one inkling of a gesture to the massive consumer enterprise that is the Disney experience, not one self-reflective image of the rivers, trees and wildlife displaced and destroyed by the creation of "the magical world of Disney."

If the message was progressive, the reality of the experience in which we were collectively participating was ironic, delusional and regressive. Upon exiting the 12 minute film, one finds oneself in the middle of one of the many cafeterias which serves countless meals a day on plastic plates, with plastic utensils and plastic bottles. 

It was a palpable reminder of the extent to which we were actively participating in the consumptive consumer culture that continues to destroy the environment. 

Whatever joy I experienced seeing my daughters bask in the magic of Disney - and there was much joy in it - was tempered by the recognition that we too were colluding in the ongoing human failure to come to terms with the lesson Simba was trying to teach.

After talking to trusted people, thinking things over and otherwise working through the transition I am making to Associate Dean for Undergraduate Studies at the College of the Liberal Arts, I have decided to embrace the model that Dean Chris Brady uses over at the Schreyer Honors College at PSU and tweet in two voices.

So, you can now find me at:

http://twitter.com/LAUSDeanLong

And, as always, you can still follow me at:

http:/twitter.com/cplong

Both twitter accounts will be written by me, but the LAUSDeanLong will be used to speak directly to undergraduate students, highlight the things we are doing in the Office of the Associate Dean of Undergraduate Studies in Liberal Arts, and reach out to alumni.  LAUS is Liberal Arts Undergraduate Studies.  The cplong account will continue to be the more personal voice I have cultivated over the past few years of twittering.  I hope many people will follow both voices.

Now, there is another transition I am making on this Long Road.  It is time to allow my daughters to determine their own web identities, so I have asked them what they would like to be called as I talk about them online.  We have determined that my five year old will be referred to here as ArtGirl because, as she says, "I am into art."  My four year old will be "DancinGirl" as she loves to dance.

These changes reflect the changing dynamics of my web presence as I move into a new professional role.  Although I will continue to blog about my life as a father here, I have started a new password protected Posterous account to chronicle some of our everyday activities.  For those who are interested, please email me for the password.

Dear Hannah:

Today is the day we have been talking about since the summer - finally, it's your birthday!

Today we celebrate you and the way you have celebrated us everyday since you arrived four years ago.

I have always admired the way you inhabit the world. You bring a sense of joy to everything you do and to everyone you meet.

You have your own way of moving through the world that makes me smile.

And when you dance, it is something to behold...

So on this day of celebration, I have produced a little recording base on our discussion about your fourth birthday. 

LwCH 2A: Listen to Hannah talk about her 4th Birthday

The two pictures here mark the day of your birth and the weekend before your fourth birthday.

We all wish you a very happy birthday and look forward to being with you as you grow into your fourth year.

Love,
Dad

We woke this morning in a cold, dark house as our power had gone out early in the morning. As we made our way downstairs, we began to realize that the power outage was only the first of our morning surprises.

During the night, the heavy snow from the earliest snowfall on record in State College had caused a huge tree in front of our house to fall on the beautiful maple tree that sits in our front yard. The tree that fell was split at its base, having collapsed under the weight of the snow.

In falling, the tree not only crushed the maple, but came within about 10 feet of hitting the roof of the house just above the girls' bedroom. After taking stock of the damage, the girls and I returned to the house to check on Val who has not been feeling well for the past few days.

School was canceled, because State College Area School District was without power as well. Without heat or power at home, we did our best with breakfast and, making sure Val was tucked warmly in bed, we ventured downtown where I was schedule to receive a flu shot.

By the end of this strange and somehow beautiful day, we found ourselves at the doctor's office with Val, where we thought we would try to capture something of the day's events using my iPhone as a voice recorder.  Here is the podcast we recorded.

I just completed Life with Chloe and Hannah episode 15, which focuses on the first half of our summer in and around State College, excluding the 2009 Stone Harbor experience, which was captured in LwCH 14. 

I have finally processed the footage from this year's vacation in Stone Harbor and produced a video available here: